


Broken

by Whokisses



Category: The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms, The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Gen, Healing, Other, Rape Aftermath, Rape Recovery, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-26
Updated: 2018-06-20
Packaged: 2018-11-05 01:17:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 10
Words: 82,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11002971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whokisses/pseuds/Whokisses
Summary: Melody has had everything taken from her and Daryl seems to be the only person who makes her feel safe. **This story has themes of sexual abuse but nothing graphic. It is not the main focus but it is a story about healing.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I just wanted to write a story about why Daryl might have had such a strong reaction to Randall telling him the story of what his group had done in season 2. I hope you guys enjoy! This is also my 1st fanfic and I'm sure there are errors galore, please forgive me.

**Mel's POV**

I can’t help but sigh when I notice that the pink hue of the sky has already turned to a dark grey and is now quickly becoming pitch black. The clouds from earlier must have carried over into tonight because not even the light of the moon or stars are able to penetrate the darkness. It’s just out of habit that I find myself squinting my eyes, hoping that it will help me find my way through the night. With my legs shaking I know it won’t be long before they are no longer able to hold up my weight. Then as if on cue, I stumbled over a dead log.

Offering up a silent thank you to whoever might be listening above that my arms decided to cooperate and caught me before I face planted on the ground.

Of course, that small victory is short lived when my brain starts to register the shooting pain radiating from my palms.

With a groan, I roll over onto my back to look over the damage. Raising my hands so that they hovered over my face, I’m relieved to see that it is minimal. It’s actually one of the lesser injuries on my body, but it still causes a hiss of pain to leave my mouth when I pull out the three thorns embedded deep in my skin.

“Why can’t I catch a break?” I say to no one because there is no one else around. It has been that way for a week. Actually, I wasn’t exactly sure of how many days had passed, things like days just started to blur together. All I know is that I have lost the people I love. So, it could have been a week or it could have been months. It doesn’t matter. The fact is I am still alone.

Plus, I am almost positive that God had given the big, “You’re on your own”, to all his creations on earth. I had read that message loud and clear after encountering my next-door neighbor, James, stumbling toward me a few weeks back. It would have been fine except he was dragging his insides behind him. If that wasn’t concerning enough, when I went to help him he tried to take a bite out of me. That was when I noticed the nice old man I had known since I was a child was in fact a walking corpse.

The news said that it was some kind of outbreak and to stay inside until it was under control. Of course, that was a while ago and the outbreak or whatever it is doesn’t seem to be under control yet. Daddy thought it was God’s reckoning but daddy thought a lot of things being a southern Baptist preacher and all.

I have no clue what is going on. All I know is that if I want to stay alive I have to keep moving.

Oh, but the cool ground feels nice. Maybe I should just stay here. What is the point anyway? Everything just feels so hopeless.

_I_ feel hopeless. Why am I even trying to keep going? Where am I going? My family is dead and I have already been through more than one person can possibly handle. Why am I still trying to survive? It would be so much easier to just stop. Just lay here not get up and see what happens.

“God will look after his flock baby girl.” That had been my daddy’s favorite saying when we were going through a hard time.

Looking up towards the heavens for some kind of confirmation, I find nothing. I am not sure of what I am looking for but I just need something. My eyes find the same night’s sky I have seen for the last couple of nights. But then the clouds finally start to part and a few stars are begin to peak through. A hundred pinpricks of light. Even dulled by the clouds the stars are vibrant. It’s the only thing that has managed to become more beautiful since the world became hell on earth.

There are too many to even try and count, but I try. What else was I going to do?

My eyes are growing heavy when I feel a large plop of water hit my forehead. Immediately followed by another on my cheek.

I can’t stop the rise of laughter as I realize what my life has become. It almost feels like a movie. All I am missing is a wacky cohort that said just seconds before the rain started to fall, “Could be worse. Could be raining.”

The bitter laughter stops as I crawl over to a nearby tree, hoping that the leaves will offer some kind of shelter from the rain. Even with the leaves catching some of the water I am still soaking wet in a matter of minutes.  

Wrapping my arms around myself to stop trembling from the chill that seems to burrow into my bones. I try to think of a positive thing. It was something my sister and I had always done.

Finally, a thought came to me.

“The bright side?” I said to myself “I needed a bath anyway.”

* * *

* * *

 

Allowing one eye to open slowly.

Shit.

I was still here in the woods. Every time I woke up a silent prayer was in my head. That it had all been a dream. So far no luck and I was still trapped in this living nightmare.

My hand went to my stomach; this is the first morning that my stomach wasn’t growling like a savage beast. Since I still hadn’t eaten anything to appease the beast I wasn’t sure it was a good sign. Maybe my stomach was giving up the fight as well.

Acceptance.

Something caught my attention and I lifted my head at the familiar sound of feet shuffling, dragging against the forest floor.

I entertained the idea that I could just lay here and see if the thing passes over me. Maybe mistake me for one of their own. I wasn’t really sure if I was even still alive –maybe I was already dead.

Against my better judgement, I push myself off the ground, cussing at the pain the thorns had left behind the night before. Immediately my legs start screaming for me to stop as I push them further than what they wanted. It has been days of just walking and running. I just need them to keep going a little further but the constant burn in my muscles told me that they aren’t going to last much longer.

My pace quickens when the growling reaches my ears. They only growl when they find a meal and I knew from experience that those monsters won’t stop as long as you were still in their sights. There is no way I can out run those things, not with both me and my legs already beyond exhaustion.

On instinct, my hand grazes my right hip to make sure I haven’t lost my only weapon. It is a simple knife that daddy has used on hunting trips for as long as I can remember. For the most part I have been lucky, managing to avoid most of the dead and only having to kill two of them since daddy died.

I have seen the monsters grouping together lately. Like some kind of dead parade, they just follow each other. I’m just grateful that so far, I have been able to find a hiding spot that let them walk right past me. Looking around, there is no hollowed-out tree or brush that I can use as cover this time. I know I am dead if a group of those things get near me.

I stop and close my eyes trying to hear if it is a group or just a lone monster coming my way. I might have a chance if it was just one of them.

It is impossible to hear anything over the thundering of my heartbeat. If I don’t get my emotions under control quickly, I am going to start panicking. I can already feel the bubble of fear making its way up my throat. Taking a deep breath in and slowly letting it out I hear the shuffling and growling getting louder.

When I open my eyes I only feel marginally better. A new sound keeps me frozen in my tracks and my ears listening. My practiced breathing stops as I try to hear a repeat of what I thought I heard.

Either I am going crazy and hearing voices, or I had actually head someone yelling out here.

Nope. There it is again; someone is definitely shouting up ahead.

Damnit.

I am ashamed to say that after confirmation of another living person I am still frozen. However, this time it is in fear. In my experience of this new world so far living people are not a good thing. In fact, they are the worse type of monster.

Pressing my thumb into the palm that has recently been attacked by thorns I welcome the pain. It is something that manages to stop the memories that were coming to the forefront of my mind. The pain is friendly -something I can manage and use to my benefit.

With the haze of fear slowly disappearing, I realize where I am and what I need to do.

I have to hide. Now.

After the threat of the dead and the living monsters pass then I can go back to trying to find my way to the highway. Maybe there I can find a car if I’m lucky. Even though lately it seems that luck is a bitch who wants nothing to do with me.

A pine tree is up ahead, there was no way I can climb it but it might be big enough to hide my body behind it.

“Sophia!”

The people or person is getting closer. The man shouting has a gruff voice, one that makes me jump. I try to make myself as small as possible. Knife in hand and my eyes scanning the woods. I still don’t see anybody.

Then a twig snaps to my right and my head turns in that direction. My eyes land on the face of a decaying animated corpse and it is coming right at me. I had been so focused on the living threat that I had forgotten about the dead one.

My hand is shaking as it grips the knife. The familiar rough hilt of it still feels foreign in my hand as I raise it in front of me.

Abandoning my hiding spot, I attempt to retreat backwards but I am walking blind and I find myself on my ass after another stick trips me. Crab crawling backwards I find that I am forced to stop when another tree blocks my path. The hard bark pushing into my back. It is unyielding and now I have nowhere to go. Great.

The monster is clumsy and his feet trip over the brush causing it to land close to my feet. It doesn’t stop its advances. In fact, it is just crawling towards me. Growling and chomping its teeth like it can’t wait to take a bite out of me.

Its cold hand lands on my leg and I can feel it through the fabric of my jeans like it is burning me. I franticly try to kick it off but its grip is strong and it uses my jeans to pull its mouth closer to my skin.

I realize that I am screaming, but honestly, I don’t know how to make myself stop at this point. Its gnawing mouth finds my shoe as I continue to kick it in the face. I just need to dislodge its grip.

Finally, my foot makes contact with its head. A sickening crack sounds but doesn’t deter the dead man. His teeth snapping only becomes more violent. Like all I have managed to do was piss it off.

I can’t get away from it and I don’t want to risk pulling myself up to my feet to stab it in the head. I don’t know how quickly it will advance if I stop kicking, and I really don’t want to risk getting a bite.

My hands are grabbing the ground beneath me. Not sure what I am looking for or what I will find–a long stick maybe?

Letting out another frustrated scream I grab the only thing I can, a handful of the leaves and dirt. Throwing them at the monster that is not relenting in its efforts to make me a snack. I haven’t stopped kicking but the grip on my leg hasn’t loosened either.

There are no other options. I am already getting tired from my struggles but the monster is showing no sign of fatigue.

“Get. Off. Of. Me.” I accent each word with a kick to its head. With no other choice, my hand shot to the buttons of my jeans and starts to loosen them. Maybe if I take my pants off the monster won’t have anything to grip? I’m not sure if my logic is sound or not I just don’t want its teeth on me.

Taking another look at the monster at my feet, I start to pull the pants down. With my eyes watching to make sure that the monster doesn’t have the chance to get a quick bite, I see the head of the monster shoot backwards. I am left stunned at what has happened. The grip finally loosens and an arrow is now sticking out of its eye. Then a thud sounds as the dead body becomes dead weight on top of me.

Immediately I pull my legs away while looking around as I pull my pants back up. I am searching for where the arrow came from. Arrows came from people –unless the dead had started using weapons then I am really screwed.

There. To my right, coming out of the woods.

It is a man and he is stalking toward me. His face is set in a scowl but he walks past where I am still on the ground and grabs the arrow from the head of the now dead (hopefully for good) thing on the ground. I instinctively pull my knees up to my chest and close my eyes.  Blocking out whatever might come next.

“Hey” his voice makes me jump involuntarily and I hate the whimper that escapes pass my lips. I hate feeling so pathetic. “I just saved ya, ain’t gonna hurt ya.”

My thumb finds my palm again and squeezes. I have to focus on the pain or I am going to freak out even more.

Something touches my arm and I fling myself backwards in a move similar to touching fire. “Please don’t hurt me. Not again.” I plead with the burn of tears in my eyes. I have to swallow several times to stop the lump in my throat that is threating to become a full-blown sob.

I risk looking up, and when I do I see a man with a crossbow. His face is still set in a scowl but he is looking at me with something I can’t place –Pity? Worry? Sadness? Anger?

He doesn’t try to get any closer. I appreciate that and then I notice that he just kneels there with his hands in the air. I allow myself to relax a little. His face doesn’t have the look that the others did.

“Have ya seen a girl out here?” His voice coming out of nowhere makes me jump again. It is a deep voice and one that I don’t think I can ever get used to. It almost sounds like he is angry and yelling at me.

What had he asked me? Something about a girl.

“No- no girls.” my voice is quiet and most definitely unsteady. I hate sounding so weak or looking like a caged animal but it is like my body has a mind of its own. I have no control over how I reacted anymore.

The man I don’t know clenches his jaw and nods before standing up, “Ya out here alone?”

Was there a good way to answer that? If I said yes would he hurt me?

Risking a nod because I’m not sure I can talk anymore. My throat is dry from either fright, fatigue, or just lack of water.  My hands are also not being cooperative, still shaking on their own.  

He runs his hand over his face like he is debating something with himself.

“C’mon.”

Does he want me to follow him?

After a few seconds of debating with myself I still don’t know why I do but I get to my feet and follow a few paces behind him. I still don’t trust him, but he did just save me. To be honest I am tired of being alone and I’m fully aware that it won’t be long before I find myself in a position that I can’t get out of. Much like the situation this man had found me in. If he hadn’t shown up I would probably be dead right about now. Or running through the woods with no pants on.

It is quiet –walking with this man. He doesn’t talk and neither do I. I listen as the only sound is our feet crushing the dead leaves beneath us. I can almost pretend like I am just enjoying a walk in the woods with a friend.

Except this man isn’t my friend –I don’t even know his name. So why am I following him?

It isn’t long before we come across an old farmhouse. Someone had long abandoned it. The windows are busted out, probably from some of the local bored teens. Graffiti littered the side of the house. It is a shame. The house looks like it was once a beautiful home. I wonder how many generations of families were raised in this house.

These older houses have a lot more personality than the new cookie cutter ones that are built in a couple of months. I have always dreamed of buying an old house and fixing it up to its former glory. I have felt that way ever since the first time I watched my favorite Christmas movie, It’s a Wonderful Life. I wanted a George Baily and I could be Mary.

Those dreams don’t matter anymore.

The man I am following like a lost dog turns toward me, “Wait here”. I try to cover the flinch as he basically growls the words at me. I don’t want to make him mad. Actually, I am not sure he isn’t already mad or if that scowl is just his everyday face.

I watch as he walks up the old steps to the home with his crossbow raised. His hand turns the handle to the door and when it opens he disappears inside. I’m left waiting out here in the tall grass. I’m not saying that I am scared when I can’t see him anymore but I am definitely nervous.

Which is ridiculous. I have known him a whole hour.

I chose to ignore the sigh of relief I exhale when I watch him exit the house a short time later.

“Sophia!” he yells again and damn my jumpy self for reacting. Sophia must be the girl he was asking me about earlier. It is obvious he is looking for her. I wonder how old Sophia is because it is no place for a little girl out here.

He walks around the back of the house and I decide to follow him. Keeping my distance, I still don’t have complete confidence that he isn’t going to hurt me. But I know I don’t want to lose sight of him again either.

For some reason, he is comforting to me –from a distance of course. Which is insane since he hasn’t said much or has even looked at me in a friendly fashion. I think it is because he seems to understand that I need my distance.

I watch as he walks over to a bush and picks a flower. Which seems odd. Why did he decide to start picking flowers? He most certainly doesn’t look like the type that would pick flowers. He looks more like the type to step on them and keep walking. Not going out of his way to crush them but if they were in his way then he wouldn’t take the time to walk around them.

Holding the flower up to the sun he inspects it before holding the delicate flower in his hand, “Got a name?” he asks me without turning around and I bite my bottom lip. I spend a while debating on if I should answer him or not. “I know ya can talk.”

More flinching on my end then I decide that he can’t use my name to hurt me.

My voice sounds much too quiet when I finally answer, “M--Melody or Mel”.

He nods and starts to move again. I continue to follow him since he hasn’t told me I can’t. We were back to just walking when he broke the silence again by saying, “Daryl.”

I guess that is his name. That’s the only thing I can think of. I don’t say anything but I stare at his back, he looks like a Daryl. Although I am pretty sure Daryl means ‘little darling’ and there is nothing darling about this man. He seems too tough and rigid. He looks like he might fight you if you dared to call him ‘darling’.

My legs are burning again when we start to walk toward an open field. I can see a farmhouse in the distance up ahead, but unlike the one we just left, this one is in a lot better condition. It is actually pretty serene, seeing this beautiful house that looks completely untouched by what is going on in the world.

The closer we get and the harder I look, the house seems more familiar but I can’t quite place it. Does he live here? I don’t want to ask any questions and he doesn’t seem to be offering up any explanations. So I keep my thoughts to myself.

Once we are closer I notice movement going on in the yard. I stop moving. I can’t help it. My feet just stop. There are other people and they seem to notice our arrival.

Daryl turns back to look at me and I am pretty sure he actually growls –probably in frustration.

“Look. No one here is gonna hurt ya. C’mon get movin.”

But I can’t move. People are coming toward me.

People I don’t know.

Men I don’t know.

I start to move so that I am now standing behind Daryl. There is no other reasoning for it except that he is the only person I somewhat know.

He seems to notice my change and puts his hand up to stop the other people from getting any closer “Give her space.”

Thank god, the people listen and stop coming closer, my breath is already coming out in fast bursts and I know that I am on the verge of a panic attack.

This is when I realized that I preferred the dead to the living these days.

Daryl is still in front of me and he reaches his hands out to grab my shoulders but I step away before he can. I don’t want to feel anyone’s touch. My eyes go back to the crowd in front of me and as I am turning around with every intention to run back into the woods someone calls out my name.

I stop.

“Mel. Mel is that you?” My head is moving rapidly back and forth trying to land on who is saying my name. The voice sounds so familiar but all I see are the unknown faces of strangers.

A young girl steps forward and there is no stopping the tears from falling from my eyes. I think it is because the young face is the first person I actually recognize since being on my own.

“Be-Beth?” my lips are trembling.

“Mel are you okay?” Beth is walking toward me but unlike before I don’t mind her advances. Beth was my sister’s best friend. I know Beth and she is one of the most caring people on the planet.

Once Beth’s arms are around me I allow myself to break down. My knees hit the ground and take Beth with me.

“She’s dead. Daddy too. Don’t let them hurt me.” I sob as I hold Beth closer to me. Grasping her like she is my lifeline. I didn’t care that people were watching me openly cry, although normally I would.

Beth is trying her best to soothe me. Her calming voice reassuring me, “No one here will hurt you Mel.”

The combination of Beth’s hand rubbing my back in slow circles and exhaustion causes my sobbing to slow. Eventually stopping altogether but not before I manage to drain myself of any energy so I close my eyes.

* * *

* * *

 

“She okay?” The sound of a man’s voice, one I didn’t know, woke me up.

“She will be fine. Maggie said that when she changed her clothes there was bruising on her thighs and blood. I won’t do an exam unless she says it’s alright, but, from what you said about how she was acting my guess is she was assaulted.”

My eyes shoot open and panic once again seizes my chest. Where am I? Then another familiar face peeks into the room. I knew Beth’s dad, Hershel. He had been close friends with my daddy. Slowly my breathing slowed little by little as he smiled down at me.

“How are you feeling Mel?” He always did have a kind voice.

I nodded in response. The panic had yet to subside but my grip on the sheets lessened a little.

“Listen Mel. It’s up to you but I think we should let Patricia do an examination on you. Do you remember Patricia?”

Yeah I remembered the woman, she had sung in the choir with me. “Yes sir”

“Is it okay if I send her in here?”

I don’t know what I wanted. I trust Patricia and Hershel for that matter. I’m just not sure how I will react because I know what kind of exam Hershel was talking about. This is all happening too fast.

Ultimately logic won out because I have been having some pain. I am afraid but I also want to make sure it isn’t anything serious.

It wasn’t too long after I agreed to an exam that someone knocked on the door.

“It’s Patricia” I relax a little, the voice is muffled but I knew who it was.

“Come in” I respond but it was so quiet that I’m not sure if Patricia had heard my timid voice or if she just decided that enough time had passed that she could come in.

“Hi Mel. It’s good to see you again.” Patricia smiled down at me. I am glad that someone else I knew, from the old world has made it but I’m not feeling particularly chatty either. Patricia seems to sense my unease because she starts to talk about what she is going to do in a very clinical manner. “I’m going to do a quick exam, just to make sure that you are not hurt. Do you want to tell me what happened?”

I really don’t want to. If I say it out loud it becomes too real, right now I can try and pretend that no one knows. Though I am not stupid and I know that they have figured it out but nothing has been confirmed by me yet.

Shaking my head, at the woman was the only answer to her question that I could give. Patricia smiled and placed her hand on my knee. It was a comforting touch but I still pulled away slightly at the contact. Not because I was afraid of Patricia, I knew she was a friend, but my knee had reacted on its own.

Am I ever going to get back to being normal and regain control over my own body?

There is no way that I am going to make it long in this world if every time someone talked to me, walked toward me, or touched me, I immediately froze up.

Patricia didn’t seem to be offended instead she asked me to remove the sheets that were covering my legs.

With shaking hands, I slowly pull the fabric back knowing what the exam would entail.  

After Patricia finished, I found myself alone in a room that I didn’t know and I couldn’t stop crying. Beth had tried to stop by for a visit but I felt so pathetic that I didn’t answer the door and pretended to be asleep.

Every part of me wants to get over what has happened but I have no clue how to do that. When I close my eyes my mind drifts back to that night. The night that changed my life forever.

The screaming always makes its way into my mind first, and I am usually able to wake myself up before the images progress further. But there are some nights when I am completely exhausted and my eyes won’t stay open that I see everything like it is happening all over again.

Rubbing My hands through my hair, I throw the blanket back and start to walk around the room. Trying to dislodge the thoughts from my mind. I can’t go to sleep and I can’t let my mind think too much.

I have to get out of this room.

Walking down the steps I remember other people live here. I am just a guest. Not wanting to wake anyone I try to be as quiet as possible which is hard when most of the steps let out a groan under my weight.  

I finally make it to the front door and when the cool air reaches my face I inhale deep, bringing the fresh air into my lungs. Out here in the open I don’t feel as trapped. There are more ways to escape if I need to.

Taking a seat in one of the rocking chairs I bring my knees up to my chest. Rubbing my hands over my arms I scold myself for not bringing a blanket with me. It is getting chilly. I wonder what month it is. It’s not like I have had much of a reason or a way to keep up with the date.

It is peaceful out here, the sounds of the crickets and other animals are relaxing. It reminds me of home.

**Daryl’s POV**

I should have made my presence known when she first came out to the porch. Now I am stuck here unsure of what to do.

She doesn’t seem to like surprises but I don’t want to seem like a creep neither. Maybe she would go back inside soon. It is a chilly night and she already seems to be feeling the cold.

Yeah. I’ll just wait it out. Just me lurking in the shadows –completely normal.

When I hear muffled sobs, I look up and see that the girl is crying. I don’t know her story but it sure seems like she deserves a good cry. I just wish I wasn’t here for this private moment.

Her face is buried in her hands and her shoulders are shaking as she quietly wept. Her auburn hair is now pulled up into a ponytail, which is a change from the last time. Last I had seen it was down and flowing over her shoulders. I also knew that her eyes were a dark green, I hadn’t been able to look into them long. Although they were bloodshot I could still see all the pain she held in her eyes. Even though I didn’t know the girl I couldn’t help but feel sorry for her.

Clearing my throat, I decide that she should know that she isn’t alone.

**Mel’s POV**

My head whips around at the sound that signals another person. First fear floods my chest, then panic. Hands gripping the handles of the rocking chair I watch as Daryl nods his head but doesn’t move from his spot on the other end of the porch.

He isn’t going to hurt me. If he was he would have already done it by now. Not taken me to a place where I could get help.

I have to swallow twice before I am able to push the words out of my dry mouth “Da-Daryl right?”

He nods but doesn’t speak. I am glad because I don’t want to jump or flinch which is a common reaction of mine to the man’s voice.

“Thank you.”

“Didn’t do nothin’” I managed to prepare myself for the gruff voice and my flinch is barely noticeable –hopefully.

“Well you helped me in the woods and you brought me here.”

I watch as he shrugs his shoulders like what he did was nothing. Then he turns his head back toward the farm, his eyes scan the grounds. I have a feeling that he doesn’t miss much.

“You should be resting.”

It is nice of him to think of me but I am out here for a reason, “I can’t.” is my reply. He nods once  like he understands but keeps his eyes on the farm. Shouldn’t he be sleeping?

Shrugging I wipe the tears that have fallen off my face and then sit back further in the rocking chair. We spend the rest of the night in silence.

* * *

* * *

 

Apparently, I could fall asleep.

Considering that I woke up still sitting on the porch and just in time to see the sun rise over the horizon. Looking at the spot that Daryl had been the night before, it is empty.

I shouldn’t care but for some reason he made me feel safe. For the first time since my daddy and sister I was able to sleep with no nightmares. Now I am back to being alone. Stretching out my arms I feel an unfamiliar weight on top of me. When I look down I find a black vest covering me like a blanket. Running my hands over the embroidery on the back of the leather vest I fall in love with the design. It is simple enough, just a set of wings but the ruggedness of it is what makes it beautiful. Even though it has spots where the string is coming loose and it is dirty it is still very pretty.

I hear shouting and my hand shields my eyes from the sun so that I can see what is going on. When I look up it is to the scene of two men arguing not too far from the front of the house. One of them has a shaved head and seems very twitchy, he keeps rubbing his hand over the top of his head. The other seems a lot calmer and is having to catch up to the other guy as he tries to get him to stop walking. I am able to make out a few words the two exchange but most of what they said is lost.

“We’ve gotta find out what she knows man. What happened to her and where.” I can’t be sure but I think they are talking about me.

The one with the shaved head is wanting to talk to me and find out what happened to me. Nope. Not happening.

“You know how it is brother. We’ve worked enough cases. You can’t force the victim to talk, it might traumatize them more.”

“We ain’t cops no more Rick.” Okay so the calm one is named Rick and the shaved head one is someone to stay away from.

I’ve heard enough, standing up I walk back inside the house. Beth and Hershel are eating breakfast and both look up at me with a smile. I’m not sure if I manage one back or if it is more of a grimace. Then my feet take me up the stairs and into the room that Hershel was kind enough to let me use. I have no clue how I am going to repay him for his kindness.

No one really bothered me the rest of the day. Which is fine by me, I just laid in bed and ran my fingers over the vest that had been left with me the night before. I know that I would have to give it back but right now it is comforting. Plus, he hasn’t asked for it back yet but I also haven’t seen him all day either.

I watch out the window from my spot on the bed as the sun starts to lower and it isn’t long before Beth knocks on the door to bring me another change of clothes. Apparently, there is a shower that I am able to use and I don’t have to give it a second thought. I practically run into the bathroom and make sure the water is as hot as I can get it. Stepping under the fall of the water my skin instantly burns but I don’t care. I welcome it.

Everything that has happened to me is being burned away and I need to feel it as it is. I ignore the blood that mixes with the water as it swirls down the drain. Patricia told me that I had some tearing and that blood was common. I just don’t want to see it. Sitting on the floor of the tub my head rests on my knees and my tears add to the mixture of water as they roll down my face.

After the shower, I go back to my room. I can hear a commotion outside my door but I have no clue what is going on. Luckily, my curiosity is cured when Beth comes in shortly after everything calms down.

“What was going on?” I ask.

“Daryl was hurt; he will be fine though.” My hand covers my mouth as she tells me the news.

What has happened? I should go make sure he is okay. Although I don’t really know the man and it is probably not appropriate. Plus, that would mean there is a chance of running into more people. So I stay put and listen as Beth tells me how they found Daryl.

According to her he was out trying to find that little girl, Sophia, again. He was on horseback and the horse threw him off which was how he fell down a ravine. He was injured with his own arrow, then he was accidentally shot when he returned to the farm. Everything about what he went through sounded awful and completely unreal. I know for a fact I wouldn’t have made it back to the farm. I’d still be in that ravine or dead. 

“I’m going to get us some dessert, I made a few cookies”, she winked at me and I had to smile at the childish gesture, “I’ll be right back.”

When Beth returned, she was kind enough to eat with me on the floor. Our backs up against the wall. I listened as she told me all about what has been happening on the farm. This group that Daryl belonged to has only been here for a couple of weeks. They came from Atlanta and Hershel let them set up camp temporarily while Rick’s little boy healed from a gunshot wound.

Then we just talked about nothing for a few hours, I know that she wants me to talk about what happened to my sister but I’m not ready for that conversation. I’m just thankful that she is too polite to push the subject. Beth has always been a genuinely good person. Not a thing about her is corrupt.

It wasn’t long before Beth left for the night and I was just lying in bed with Daryl’s vest held to my chest. I gave up a while ago trying to figure out why I do the things I do anymore. The vest just comforted me as I ran my fingers along the outline of the wings until I finally fell asleep.

* * *

* * *

 

I woke up to a strong hand over my mouth.

This was a just a dream, right? My panic quickly starts to take over. I start to hit and scratch at the hand that felt much too real to be another nightmare. My feet start to kick the wall as I fought against whatever force was above me.

I barely registered what the man’s voice above me was saying “Shh –Shh I’m not gonna hurt you”.

Yeah and that is why he decided to wake me up with a hand stopping me from calling for help? I am not buying it.

My struggles are pointless. All it managed to do was make him mad. Causing his hand to push harder on my mouth, and making my head sink lower into my pillow. The now familiar pressure is around my lungs as the panic once again took over as I couldn’t breathe.

 

**Daryl’s POV**

The damn pain in my side is killing me. I still can’t believe I impaled myself on my own damn bolt. I’m just glad Merle isn’t here to see me propped up in bed with both a bullet and an arrow wound. It is pathetic.

In a last-ditch effort to get comfortable I turn over on my side but I hear a thud. Is that noise coming from the room next door?

Shrugging as I get out of the bed I make my way toward the door. It ain’t like I got anything better to do so I might as well investigate.

The door next to my room is closed but this is definitely where the noises were coming from. I put my ear up to the door when I hear what also sounds like a muffled scream? What the hell is going on in there?

Without knocking I open the door. I’m not sure what I am looking at. It’s dark but and takes a few seconds for my brain to figure it out. When I do, a growl escapes my mouth. It is directed at the back of the man who is holding down a struggling girl. The fear is obvious on her face and in her movements.

“Get the hell off her.” I spit and start to make my way forward. Forgetting about the pain in my side.

“Hey man –calm down. I’m not gonna hurt her. I just need to know where this happened to her. We got to know if we are safe here.”, is that Shane’s voice?

“You’re hurtin’ her. Get your hand off her now.” I’m not sure how convincing I sound considering I am holding my side and have a bandage wrapped around my head but I don’t like seeing the girl in this state of panic.

“What are ya going to do man?” Yeah, it was certainly Shane, the cocky asshole.

Before I can think about it I lunge at Shane and the pain in my side is quickly forgotten when anger replaces it. All I feel in this moment is rage and Shane is the cause of that rage. We land on the floor with me on top but Shane is a big son of a bitch. I can still hear the girl screaming but I am too busy trying to stop Shane from punching me to tell her to stop. I can check on her after Shane is taken care of.

Then someone is trying to separate us. Of course it is Rick, always helpful Rick.

“It’s just a misunderstanding man” Shane is saying to Rick. I am glad to see the guy sporting a bloody nose and lip.

“Ain’t no misunderstandin. You were in here with your hand over that girl’s mouth.” Hershel is in the doorway and the man glares at Shane.

“You get him out of my house. He isn’t welcome in here.” Rick nods at the owner of the farm then pushes Shane in front of him. Pushing him towards the door and stopping him from trying to explain himself.

I give a quick glance to where the girl is. She’s huddled in the corner of the bed, her knees to her chest and she’s breathing faster than is probably healthy. Hershel kneels in front of her but she scoots away from him.

I could kill Shane for making her so afraid again.

“Mel sweetie, you have to calm down, you’ll work yourself up and you’ll pass out.” Hershel is trying to reach the girl but she is just staring at him with fear in her wide eyes.

I stay in the corner trying my best not to bring attention to myself. I should leave but for some reason I want to make sure she is okay before I do.

“V-ve-vest” she points with shaky hands at the vest that has fallen to the floor. I slowly walk over to it and pick it up then I reach my hand out to her. She grabs it and starts to rub her fingers along the wings.

Slowly her breathing becomes more even and less rapid then she seems to visibly relax. Neither Hershel or myself has moved since she asked for the vest. I was afraid to make any sudden movements, not knowing how she would react.

“I think we should let her rest.” Hershel says to me when her breathing is finally at a normal rate. He starts to stand up from his spot on the ground next to the bed. I nod and make my way to the door when a frantic shout stops me.

“No. Please stay Daryl. I don’t want to be alone. He-he could come back.” Her breathing is starting to pick back up and I know that it won’t be long before all the progress that’s been made is lost.

“Okay. I’m not goin ‘nywhere” I pull the only chair in the room over against the furthest wall and I sit down in it. I’m pretty sure I opened up a few stitches but it is nothing that can’t be fixed later.

She nods at me and I don’t know what I am doing. Daryl Dixon doesn’t do stuff like this. I don’t care about others, it is always just Merle and I.

Hershel stops in front of me before he leaves the room. His glare an obvious warning before he walks out of the room, leaving the door open.

I can’t say that I blame the guy for the look he threw my way. Hell, I know what I look like and believe me when I say that what I am doing right now is completely out of character. Looking for a lost little girl was one thing but babysitting a grown person is ridiculous. Merle would have a field day with this.

“You should have the bed. I’ll sleep in the chair” I look up and see her looking at me. She actually looks concerned about me. Which is something I have never seen, at least not directed toward me.

“I’m fine. Get some sleep” I am suddenly very tired and the chair is not the worse place I had ever slept.

I hear the floorboard squeak then something is being handed to me “Here.” I reached out and take the blanket that she is offering me. “Thank you. For staying. I’m sorry I asked you to.”

I have no clue what to say to her so I cover myself up and watch as she goes back to her corner on the bed. Her fingers lightly playing over the wing pattern on my vest.

 

**Mel’s POV**

I had asked him to stay in the room but I knew I wasn’t going to get any sleep –not after what just happened. Rick had called that man Shane. Shane is someone I am going to stay away from.

When his hands were on my mouth all I could see were flashbacks of when those men had found us. My sister crying and reaching out for me. My daddy screaming and fighting against the man who held him.

My hands become more enthusiastic in tracing the wings on the vest. In an attempt to dislodge any more images that are stuck in my head. When I look up at the man that is asleep in the corner, hate that I asked him to stay with me. He is hurt and I should have thought of that before I freaked out and begged him to babysit me.

Now he is probably in more pain because of me. I feel safe with him. This is now the second time he has saved me and you don’t save someone just to hurt them, do you?

No. Daryl is good person.

Not only has he saved me twice but he was also searching the woods on his own looking for a missing little girl. I hope they find her and that she is unharmed. Beth told me that they were looking for a girl who was maybe twelve years old.

It makes me sick to think about what might be happening to her right now. She has to be found and hopefully she is fine.

* * *

* * *

 

Sleep never did come. I spent the rest of the night watching Daryl sleep and then watching the sun rise. I jumped when a deep groan sounded from the seat that Daryl was in. He was stretching and it was obvious that he was in pain. Now I felt even more terrible for asking him to stay.

“Morning.” my voice was quiet and he seemed shocked to be in the room. I watch as he winces before his hand shoots over to his side.

I want to help him but I have no clue how to do that.

“Can I get you anything? I can make you some breakfast or something” I am not the best cook but I know how to scramble eggs.

“Nah.” He tries to stand up but instead he falls forward a little. My hand comes forward to help him but once my skin touches his, I immediately pull it back.

Jesus, I couldn’t be any more pathetic.

I look down at the sheet of the bed partly because I am ashamed and embarrassed. My fingers are still touching his vest when he looks down at it.

I still can’t meet his eyes when I hold it out to him, “Here. I’m sorry I didn’t mean to take it”

He just stands there for a while. His eyes on the vest before he looks back up at me, “Keep it for now.” Then he walks out of the room.

I stay in my spot on the bed as I wait to make sure everyone else is awake. I need to get out of this room.

Once I am downstairs I see Hershel. He’s sitting at the table and is reading from the bible. I don’t know what to say after last night so I just stand in the doorway.

“You can come in Mel. Get something to eat, you are welcome here.” His voice soft and said while his face is still in the book.

I slowly make my way further into the room, keeping my distance from the man. He isn’t going to hurt me but distance kept me calm.

“I-I’m sorry, for everything. I’ll leave today, I don’t think I can be around people right now.”

Hershel lifts his head up and looks at me. I see a sadness in his eyes and I’m not sure if it is directed at me or for himself.

“Mel. Nothing has been your fault and I know it is tough right now but you will get used to people again. It will take time but it will happen.” He folds his hands together and I watch the action with a weird fascination. His hands are worn. They are the hands of someone who does honest work, “I’m no expert but I think talking is recommended. It doesn’t have to be me. It can be Beth, Patricia, or anyone else you feel comfortable with but I think it will help.”

I can only nod and watch as he pushes his plate of eggs and bacon toward me. Smiling, I take what he offers and start to eat. “Can you read out loud?” I ask him. “If it’s not too much trouble.”

His voice and the words he starts to read are comforting. I pretend like it is my daddy reading. He would read from the bible aloud every day and it’s something familiar.

After breakfast Beth and I spend the rest of the day cleaning the house. I think Beth only asked me to help so that I was able to keep busy and keep my mind off of things. It worked and I even found myself smiling as Beth splashed some water on me while she was doing dishes.

* * *

* * *

 

I decide to take over lunch duty solo. Hershel is eating his sandwich that I had made, and I was enjoying cleaning up the kitchen.

I can hear Hershel talking to someone and I stop what I am doing when the other voice grows louder. It was that guy from last night, Rick.

The words were loud enough for me to hear their entire conversation. Rick is begging Hershel to let his group stay on the farm. It was getting heated but I was stuck standing in the corner with nowhere to retreat, luckily neither of them seemed to see me. Apparently, Rick has a wife and she is pregnant.

Pregnant? In this world? Seems like one of the worse decisions you can make these days.

Once Hershel and Rick left the dining room, I slump down to the floor. Something Rick said had me starting to think. My hands are shaking and I needed to keep them busy. Pushing myself off of the wall I was leaning against I ran up the stairs and into the room I have been occupying.

My hands found Daryl’s vest and I started to rub it. Trying to keep my hands and mind busy with tracing the pattern but it isn'tworking. Why hadn’t I thought of this before?

My palms pushed into my eyes as things I didn’t want to think about or see were at the edge of my mind.

My hand found my knife that was on the bed stand. I laid it there last night after the Shane incident. Then I ran out of the room, down the stairs, and out the door. Standing on the porch my breathing was coming too fast for the minimal effort it took me to get to this spot.

I start to walk in a direction that looks like no one else was in. Then my feet picked up and once again I was running. When I found myself in the woods I stopped and dropped to my knees. The tears were flowing freely and I let them.

 

**Daryl’s POV**

I was still not able to look for Sophia so I figured I could hunt a bit. So far, I’ve bagged three squirrels. Not much but it was something.

Hearing something big coming through the trees, I raised my crossbow up. Once I saw who it was I lowered it and watched what her next move was going to be.

What the hell was she doin out here? Doesn’t she know it isn’t safe out here by herself?

Then the girl fell to her knees and started to cry. It wasn’t a quiet or silent cry neither, this was a pain filled cry. This was the second time I found myself watching her cry. It was a habit I wanted to break.

She was saying something but I can’t make it out. It sounds like she is saying, “Why didn’t I think of it before? I can’t be, I’ll die first.”

Then my eyes caught a flash of silver in her hand. She is staring down at it and I don’t not like the look she has on her face. It’s the face of someone who has given up.

She stands up, still unaware that I am here, and grips her knife tight, she has it raised over her stomach and it looks like she has every intention of pushing it into her belly.

“Wait.” I call out before she can do anything, I have no clue what else to do. I’m sure as hell not going to sit back and watch this girl kill herself.

She seems shocked that I’m there and stumbles back.

“I can’t” she says again between her hiccupping.

“It’s okay if you can’t.” At first I think she is referring to not being unable to kill herself but she keeps shaking her head no.

I take a risk and move a step toward her. When she doesn’t move, or try to get away I take that as a sign to keep going. Making sure my movements are slow and still keeping my distance I get about three feet away from her, before I stop. She is still gripping the knife.

“Wanna tell me what’s wrong?”, it is a stupid thing to ask but I am trying to distract her. Anyone with eyes can see that she has been through hell.

“I didn’t think about it before” I keep nodding my head even though I have no clue what she was talking about “What if I’m pregnant?”

Shit. This is not a conversation for me, Carol or Lori should be here doing this. Not me.

I rub my hands over my face, trying to bide my time before I look back at the girl in front of me. What do I say? I am far from a motivational speaker.

“Ya might not be”, smooth Daryl, “Just hand me the knife. We can figure it out.”

She stares at my hand but still seems hesitant. I watch the debate on her face as she decides if she should hand over her weapon or not. Then she finally nods before I feel the weight of the blade in my hand and I let out my own sigh of relief. Suddenly I feel a pair of arms around my neck and my first reaction is to stiffen up –go on defense. But the soft cries that are being muffled into my chest make me bring my hand around and pat her on the back. I know if anyone was seeing this it would look awkward but comforting was not my forte. 

I could kill, hunt, track, and fight but comforting? Nope.

 

**Mel’s POV**

My arms are around Daryl and for the first time I don’t flinch or pull away at the human contact. I have no clue what it is about him but he makes me feel a little normal. He has an angry face, a voice that sounds like he is always yelling, and nothing about him screams ‘Please hug me’.

Like I said before, I have given up trying to figure out why I do the things I do anymore.

For once Daryl seems to be more awkward than I am, I noticed the way he stiffened up when I hugged him but then he relaxed -marginally anyway. He even went as far to give me two quick pats on my back.

“Sorry” I wipe the tears from my eyes and pull away from the man. I am back to being embarrassed. “I’m usually not so much of a wreck.” for some reason I feel like I needed to justify my actions. I was once a strong person maybe not physically but I wouldn’t just cry at a drop of the hat. Not like I do now.

He shrugs and looks at the ground. He starts to bite his fingernail.

“We can go find Beth.” he offers.

I know what he is doing but I don’t want to talk to Beth.

“No. she is too good, I don’t want to ruin anything for her.” I wasn’t sure if that made sense to Daryl but he nods again like he understands. I don’t want Beth to fear what is out there, she has to know already but I don’t want to make it all too real for her. I like the glimmer of hope that she still has –it reminded me of my sister.

“Do you have any family?” I ask. Once again, no clue why but I am curious and I want to keep my mind busy.

His face shows that he isn’t expecting the question but he nods, “Got a brother, Merle”, but his face shows sadness. I don’t want to push so I leave it at that.

“You?”

I expected the return question so it didn’t bother me when he asked, “I did but not anymore. Our farm caught fire so we left and daddy had us staying in a tent in the woods. My sister always hated camping and would complain about having to sleep on the ground every day.” I had to stop talking as the familiar lump started to resurface in my throat. This was the first time I’ve really spoken of them out loud since I lost them.

“You didn’t?” I look at him, unsure of what his question is “You didn’t hate camping?” he reiterated.

“Oh no –I loved it. Always have, I love the smell of the ground and being away from people. When I was little my daddy set a tent up in the field next to the house for my sister and I to camp out in one weekend. My sister stayed about three hours into the night before she bailed on me. I spent every night that I could that summer in the tent.” I smiled at the memory “I pretended it was my own little house.”

It was back to being silent between the two but I didn’t mind it. It was relaxing out here and I felt safe with Daryl near.

“We should head back.” He said as he started to stand, his hand reached out for me to take so that he could help me up. I was hesitant for a second but my fingers touched his palm and then he closed his hand around mine and pulled. Then I was on my feet.

Walking back to the house I tried to forget the reason I was out in the woods in the first place. Daryl was a great distraction –just talking to him for that short time. But now the fear was like a blackness settling at the edge of my vision.

We were walking side by side and when we were closer to the house I started to hear people talking. My ears perked up and then I heard Shane’s voice over the others, my feet hesitated for a second. Then Daryl was standing in front of me Blocking my view of the man and hopefully Shane’s view of me.

“Go on.” Daryl lightly pushes me toward the door that was behind me “I’ll check on ya in a bit.” I found myself relaxing at his last statement. Honestly, I wasn’t ready to leave his side. I really needed to stop feeling so clingy but the man made me feel safe.

I left my human safety net and walked into Hershel’s house, trying to ignore the loud voices that I left behind outside.

 

**Daryl’s POV**

Shane was glaring at me but I managed to ignore it. The asshole is asking for an arrow to the head, and I had an itchy trigger finger.

“What the hell are you doing with her man?” I really didn’t want to deal with this shit right now, especially not from Shane of all people “You into jail bait or something? Or is the damaged goods…make it easier for you to get laid?”

I have no clue what happened next, I just know that I was now on top of Shane and my fists were once again connecting with his face. Then the asshole grabbed my side, the one I recently had an arrow sticking out of, and shoved his thumb into the tender area.

I felt arms around me trying to pull me up but I shoved them off. They were persistent whoever it was, then I realized it was Glen. Rick was trying to get Shane to calm down and pull him away. I wasn’t done though. I wanted the guy dead.

It wasn’t even what he said about me I’ve heard worse. It was what he was implying about the girl, she has been through enough and the last thing she needs was shit from this guy. For some reason, I wanted to protect her where I could. I barely even knew her but it is clear that she is a survivor and I can respect that. Most people would have opted-out. Sure, I just found her in the woods about to plunge a knife into her stomach all Shakespearean like, but I don’t think she would have actually done it.

I don’t know the extent of what she went through but I know people would kill themselves for a lot less than what she has been through. I’m going to do what I can for her, it might not be much but something about her seemed pure. Like she would make everyone’s life better just by being near them.

That smile she gave back in the woods when she was talking about her past, it was the smile of someone close to an angel. In that moment, I saw what she was like before everything happened to her. Her eyes lit up and they were full of life, not the pain and sorrow she held when I first met her.

I think the main reason I want to help her is because we are both alone.

Pushing myself away from Glen I decide that I need to cool off before I talked to Hershel.

* * *

* * *

 

It took a couple of laps around the farm before I started to feel my anger dull. I preferred being alone and the silence of the farm was all that I needed. I found Hershel as he was finishing up feeding the cows. I grabbed what he was reaching for and did what I could to help the older man.

“Mel seems to have taken a liking to you. Do you know why?”

I honestly have no clue. I shrug my shoulders and dump the bucket into a trough. I didn’t have an answer so I couldn’t voice one.

“I think she feels safe with you. Sees you as a protector.” Hershel stops what he is doing and turns toward me, “I can see you are a good man Daryl, I just don’t want her getting hurt any more than she already has. She is a sweet girl, used to be so trusting of people. Always volunteered at the church and when she was home from college she spent it working on the farm with her daddy. He was a good friend of mine and helped me when I needed somewhere to turn to. I feel responsible for her now. I just want to make sure you understand that.”

I did. I wouldn’t like it if someone like me was hanging around my daughter. “Found her in the woods. She’s worried ‘bout bein pregnant.” I left out the part about the knife.

“She told you this?”  I nodded in response “Well at least she is talking to someone. I’ll get Maggie to go into town see if they have any pregnancy tests. I pray that she isn’t, no one should go through that. She is strong though, she’ll pull through”

I turn to walk away but Hershel calls me over his shoulder “Thank you. For looking after her.”

“It’s nothin”

 

**Mel’s POV**

I thought it was weird when Maggie stopped by the room. She is talking to me which is strange, Maggie and I have known each other for a while. She is only two years older than me but we never really talked or hung out. I would see her in school but we never bothered to exchange pleasantries. Her friends were a different crowd, not terrible people but I was an honor student and prided myself on being a good girl. Now that I look back on it I realize a lot of good that has done me. Here I am at what is quite possibly the end of the world and I’ve never lived, I was always too scared of not being the perfect person everyone expected me to be. 

Maggie was more of the wild child, daddy used to say that she was acting out after her mother died.

My mother also died when I was young, shortly after my sister was born. I don’t really have a lot of memories of her other than she used to make me pancakes every Sunday morning. Everything else is mostly memories my daddy hammered into my mind from his stories –they weren’t truly my memories.

“I brought you this” When I look down to see what is in her hand, I’m shocked. Was that what I thought it was? “I had an extra one lying around.”

I think I started to panic, mainly at the fact that someone else now knew because she quickly tried to calm me down. “It’s no big deal –we can pretend like I know nothing if you want.” I nodded. I liked the idea but it didn’t really change the fact that Maggie knew.

My hands were shaking but I took what she was handing me, quickly hiding it under my leg. I didn’t want to look or think about it right now. A huge part of me wanted to run to the bathroom that moment but the other part didn’t want to know. 

“Last time we will talk about it if you want but Beth and me –we’re here for you. No matter what. Daddy too.”

“Thank you”, the Greene family were definitely some of the best people I knew. I am beyond lucky that Daryl had found me and brought me here.

 

**Daryl’s POV**

I was tired by the time I made it to the front door to the old farmhouse. I really just wanted to just turn around and lay down in my tent but I told the girl I would check on her. Cursing myself for the promise I made I took the steps up to her room. The door was opened and I could see her sitting on the bed looking at something in her hand.

I entertained the idea of just turning around –technically I have checked on her. She is fine. But my damn hand came up and knocked lightly on her door. I expected her to jump, and she did, but I didn’t expect the smile when she saw it was me in the doorway.

This wasn’t the smile I had seen out in the woods earlier, no this was a smile that seemed forced. Like she didn’t want me to see the pain she was in.

“You can come in” she said.

Once again, I should just turn around but my feet took me to the chair I had occupied last night. The damn thing was not comfortable. It was too pretty to be comfy.

As I walked across the room I noticed that she shoved something under her pillow. I was curious what she was trying to hide but didn’t want to ask. Not my business.

“Brought your knife” palming her blade in my hand. I didn’t want to leave her defenseless but I also had concerns about how she might use the knife. “You good?”

She chewed on her bottom lip and started to play with her hands. I still haven’t received an answer to my question, the words were on my tongue when she finally spoke up, “You should keep it for now.”

I nodded and put the knife back into my holster, it didn’t quite fit but it would work for now. The thought of her possibly still thinking of taking her own life put an unfamiliar feeling in his stomach. No clue why but I didn’t want to see this girl die. It was clear that she was a fighter, she was still here.

I know what it was like to keep going even if you don’t want to. Hell, it had been my entire childhood.

We spent a long time just sitting in the room. The silence was nice, it’s rare to find someone else who is okay with not talking. Most people tried to force conversation when a hush would fill a room but not her.

She covered her mouth in an attempt to hide her yawn. I knew she didn’t sleep last night and she only had a few hours the night before. There is no telling when the last time she had a good rest was.

“Get some rest. I’ll stay here if ya want” Why did I say that?

It looked like she was going to protest but the bags under her eyes won out and she nodded her head. She scooted to the furthest side of the bed and curled under the blankets. I couldn’t help but notice how small she looked in the bed. Her skin was pale and her dark hair was a stark contrast.  She stayed facing me but her eyes stayed on the door, probably worried about that asshole Shane.

“Ain’t nothing gonna happen. While I’m here.”

“I know. I just wish I wasn’t so weak.”

She thought she was weak? If anything, she is one of the toughest people on the farm. There is no way that the older Carol or Lori would be doing half as well as she is doing. I didn’t even know the full extent of it but I knew enough.

Anger suddenly found its way into my veins and I had to clinch my fists. There were some sick people out there but they had always been out there. People who wanted to destroy the last few good things in this earth.

 

**Mel’s POV**

Stretching out I realized that I was in a very comfy bed. Wiping my face of the drool, I grimaced at the dark wet spot left behind on my pillow. Then I remembered that Daryl had stayed in the chair, looking over I was actually relieved that he wasn’t there anymore. Drool does not equal cute.

There was a tray with a sandwich on it. How long had I been asleep? Was it lunch time already? I felt like a bum but I did notice that I had slept through the night with no nightmares and I was feeling a lot better. I would have to thank Daryl later. I actually have a lot to thank him for. Every time I turn around he is doing something to help me.

I started to eat my sandwich that I’m sure Beth left for me. I am almost done when I start to hear people shouting from below my window. I walk over and pull the curtain back. I’m not surprised to see that it’s Shane doing most of the yelling. An involuntary flinch happens each time he raises his voice.

“Look, it was one thing sitting around here picking daisies when we thought this place was supposed to be safe. But now we know it ain't.”

It’s hard to miss the bag of guns he is handing out to people and I immediately start to worry. How were we not safe? Was the dead coming? Or were people coming?

Shane is still passing out guns to people and I have to admit he is great at playing the crowd. I’m terrified and I still have no clue what is going on.

Looking out the window my eyes land on Daryl standing away from the others, he is holding a shot gun over his shoulder. He looks up and meets my eyes. He gives a quick nod and I have no clue how to interpret it. Stay there? Everything is all right?

Not knowing what is going on is starting to take its toll. My mind is coming up with all types of scenarios. What if Daryl, Beth, Maggie, or Hershel get hurt and here I am just hiding in this room. I need to try and do what I can. Whatever that is.

Shane and Daryl run off and the rest of the group follow. Making my way downstairs I kick myself for not taking my knife back last night. What if I need it?

Beth is standing on the steps of the porch watching as the group runs toward Rick and Hershel. I’m not sure what I am currently witnessing but it looks like they are leading some of the dead around by a catch pole. That can’t be right. You need to kill them because they have zero issues with killing you.

I keep my arm around Beth as she starts to walk toward her father and the rest of the group. Briefly ignoring the fact that I am surrounded by strangers I try to focus on what Shane is screaming about. Then the mad man starts to fire his gun. I bring Beth down toward the ground and I try my best to cover her with my own body. I’m not sure what he is firing at but I don’t want Beth to be in the crossfire.

Beth is screaming, “No! Stop it!”, but I am trying to hold her and listen to what Shane is saying.

“That's three rounds in the chest. Could someone who's alive, could they just take that?! Why is it still coming? That's its heart, its lungs. Why is it still coming?” He is shooting the dead woman Hershel is holding.

“Shane, that’s enough!” Rick is screaming and it looks like he is struggling to keep his own dead man under control.

“Yeah, you're right, man. That is enough.” Then Shane starts to walk toward the woman he was just shooting. I watched in horror as he points the gun point blank at the dead woman’s forehead and fires his gun. The back of her head falling backwards.

Beth is crying and I can only rub her back in an attempt to calm her but Shane keeps yelling, “Enough risking our lives for a little girl who's gone! Enough living next to a barn full of things that are trying to kill us. Enough. Rick, it ain't like it was before! Now if y'all want to live, if you want to survive, you got to fight for it! I'm talking about fighting right here, right now.”

The man is scary and it’s not just how intense he is but there is a look in his eyes that I have come to know well. He might have been a good guy before everything happened but I have no doubt that this man is ruthless and he will do anything he feels justified in doing.

Shane starts to run toward the barn they are standing in front of and starts to bang on the locks that keep the doors closed. Over the screaming and banging I can hear the sound of the dead getting worked up by the noise. They know that their next meal lays on the other side. I am so confused and can’t figure out why they are locked in the barn in the first place.

I hold Beth closer to my chest when the dead start to emerge from the barn. She wraps her arms around me and I bury my face into her hair. Then the deafening sound of gunfire and the growls of the dead are the only thing filling my head.

“It’s okay. Don’t look. Close your eyes.”, I try to soothe Beth and it reminds me of when I said the same thing to my sister. I physically shake my head. Now isn’t the time for my own freak out. Beth needs me and I am not going to let her down. Not I like did with Harmony.

Lifting my head up I watched as the last of the dead fell to the ground. Then the quiet was almost as bad as the gunfire. Beth is crying while still holding on to me and there is a buzzing in my head I can’t get rid of.

No one moved, everyone was either in shock or had been just as surprised as I was.

When I thought, it was all over a soft growling started again from inside the barn. My heart broke when the body of a small girl slowly stumbled out of the barn. This is the first time I have seen a child turned. A woman screamed to my left and tried to run to her. She was screaming one word over and over.

“Sophia!” and I knew that they had finally found the girl Daryl had been searching for.

Daryl stopped the woman from getting closer and he held her as she cried. My eyes were closed at this point. I have seen enough to last me a lifetime. I just stayed on my knees and whispered to Beth. I could try to comfort her as much as I can.

I give a final jump as one last gunshot rang out.

I can hear the now familiar gruff voice trying to tell the mother of the girl not to look but I kept my eyes closed. I only looked up when Beth broke free from my grasp, when I did it was to see her walking toward the bodies of the dead laying on the ground.

I quickly followed after her I had an idea of why she wanted to go over there. I knew Hershel had a wife and a step-son but they were not in the house. I had assumed they were dead so I never asked but now I guess they have been in the barn the whole time.

Shane tried to stop Beth from getting closer but I pushed his hands away from her. This was the guy who did this to her. He had no right to touch her or try to comfort her.

I stood behind Beth as she found the body of a woman with bright red hair. I knew it was her mother. I watched as she tried to roll the lifeless body over. Then the growls started and it became clear that Beth’s mother was not dead after all. She had her hands around Beth’s arms and was trying to bring her mouth up to meet Beth’s skin.

My hand immediately went to where my knife was supposed to be but nothing was there. I looked around as everyone was trying to get Beth free and I saw a garden hoe laying against the barn. I grabbed it and once Beth was pulled free from her dead mother’s grip I slammed it down into her skull. It took me two tries before the woman finally stopped moving.

Without looking at the face of the woman I once knew, I let my weapon drop and went back to Beth’s side. Hershel was on her other side. We were close to the house when that jerk decided to follow after us.

“You knew.” He kept yelling while he chased after Hershel.

“Leave us alone.” Maggie called back and I felt like turning around and hitting the man. I was scared of him but right now anger was winning out over fear.

“You knew and you kept it from us.” He just kept on talking. Didn’t he see that they had just lost their family a second time?

“I didn't know.” Hershel kept pulling Beth along toward the porch he looked so lost. Then Maggie took over my side. This was a family matter and I understood the need to be close to each other. 

“That's bullshit. I think y'all knew.”

“We didn't know!” Maggie screamed at Shane.

“Why was she there?!”

“Your-- Otis put those people in the barn. Maybe he found her and put her in there before he was killed.”

“You expect me to believe that? - Do I look like an idiot?”

I wanted to say yes but I am not a complete idiot and I value my life.

“I don't care what you believe!”

“Everybody just calm down.” Rick is trying to control the situation but it is Shane that’s causing the issues.

“Get him off my land!” Maggie and Patricia have taken Beth up to the door and I still stood beside Hershel. He doesn’t look like he is doing so well, the least I can do is stand by him as Shane yells at him.

“Let me tell you something.” I watch as Shane starts to get close to Hershel. His hand is raised like he is going to grab the older man.

Something in me snapped and I stood in front of Shane, “Don't touch him!” I yell and I even surprise myself with how strong it sounds.

“Well look who isn’t afraid of her own shadow after all.” He steps closer to me and any fierceness I just held is quickly dissolving. This is a man who is twice my size and can easily hurt me. I’m stubborn though, so I decide to glare at him until the panic inevitably starts to rise. He is so close and he keeps his eyes on me with each step he takes. Only by the grace of God my feet stay planted in place.

His chest is almost touching mine and I know that once any part of him touches me I am going to crack. He knew it to and he was already wearing a satisfied smile on his face.

“Shane BACK OFF!” Rick yells from beside me and put his hand in-between us managing to push Shane back. I ‘m not sure but I think his eyes held nothing but hatred and it was all directed right at me.

* * *

* * *

 

I sit in the living room as Maggie puts Beth to bed. Rick and Shane continued to argue outside on the front porch for a while but I stopped listening. Everything I just saw and what Beth has just been through starts to come back to me.

I guess the farm isn’t as serene as I thought. I can hear Beth crying from her room and I have to cover my ears. I can’t hear anymore crying. Everything is too much; this day has brought back too much for me.

I look up when I see a woman standing in the doorway.

“Hi.”, she gives me a small smile, “I’m Lori. Rick’s wife.”

I nod but don’t offer up my own name. I don’t want to care about any more people.

“Can you let Hershel and his family know that we are ready for a service?”

I get up and leave the woman downstairs. Absent mindedly I walk to Hershel’s room then I knock on Hershel’s open door. He is sitting on the bed and has boxes surrounding him. It looks like he is packing up his wife’s things.

“They said they are ready.” My voice is quiet because I understand the pain he is in right now.

“Thank you.” he puts something down on his dresser but I don’t want to watch people in pain anymore so I walk down the hall to tell Beth and Maggie about the funeral.

* * *

* * *

 

I decide to go to the service but only for Beth. I stand beside her and make sure that Shane is as far away from us as possible. He shouldn’t even be here but I have lost all of my bravado from earlier.

It is a beautiful spot for them to be buried. Under the shade of an oak tree.

Someone stands beside me and I stiffen up until I realized that it is Daryl. I don’t mind him being on my other side. In fact, now that he is near me I find myself taking less glances at Shane.

When the service is over I walk back with the Greene family and Daryl goes in another direction. I walk Beth into the kitchen and we start to make something to eat. I have been cutting some tomatoes and I hand her a plate to put them on. She takes it but something happens because I watch as her fingers relax and the plate falls to the ground, shattering. Beth follows after and I hardly have time to catch her before she hits the ground.

Maggie and the man who introduced himself as Glen, are in the room a few seconds after.

Beth is now lying in a bed and isn’t moving. I’m scared but Maggie keeps saying that it is probably just shock. Which makes sense, Beth has just seen her family killed again and was attacked by her dead mother. That is a lot to process. Especially when you are so young.

The most concerning thing is that no one knows where Hershel is. I know that Rick and Glen are going into town to look for him. I just sit next to Beth’s bed. Holding her hand. She is so cold and her skin is clammy. I hate what this world has done to her and I can only hope that she pulls through.

I start to sing the song that my sister and her sang at their last school talent show. I didn’t have the voice that either of them did but I don’t think Beth really cared about that.

_“Song sung blue. Everybody knows one. Song sung blue. Every garden grows one.”_

I brush Beth’s hair away from her face. Harmony had always had a beautiful voice.

_“Me and you are subject to the blues now and then. But when you take the blues and make a song. You sing them out again.”_

I start to choke on the words as I remember laughing at my sister when she called me up one day to ask me if I could try and make it to her talent show. I laughed because she told me she was going to be singing a Neil Diamond song. Only she would come up with the idea to sing a song that dated at a high school talent show.

I skipped my last class of the day, psychology, so that I could make the drive back home in time to see her and Beth sing. Both of them were beautiful, their voices angelic. Of course, they placed second. After some weird dance crew placed first. It was to be expected, if they had chosen a newer pop song there was no doubt they would have won. But both daddy and I were so proud of her.

Daddy always told us music was in our veins. Our momma was a singer and she even had a record. He used to play it for Harmony and me every night. That was where we got our names Melody and Harmony from.

I stayed with Beth until Maggie came into the room. Hershel and the others still weren’t back yet and it was obvious that several people were on edge. 

I was back to feeling useless so I went into the kitchen and tried see if I could start anything for dinner. Thinking that no one would want scrambled eggs for dinner I searched the freezer.

Jackpot. A roast was sitting in the back and it might be a little freezer burnt but I know that potatoes and onions were handy, so roast it was.

I kept my mind busy and focused on this task. If it wondered I don’t think I would know how to cope. Too much has been going on and I just want to block it out, mindlessly work on something.

The roast is in the oven so I start to snap some green beans.

Snap

Throw into the bowl

Snap

Throw into the bowl

This is about as mindless as you can get, and I love it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

**Mel's POV**

Looking over what I managed to accomplish, I start to feel pretty proud of the meal I made. Pot-roast, green beans, and corn bread. It isn’t much but this is my first time making a real dinner by myself and I hadn’t burnt down the house. I would call that a success.  

While everyone is still gathered outside I start to set the table. After what happened at the barn earlier today, Beth seems to have fallen into some kind of catatonic state. I know Maggie is worried for her younger sister but I’m trying to be optimistic that Beth will pull through once she is able to process what happened. Hershel, Glen, and Rick are still missing which has a lot of people worried, myself included. People are already coming up with scenarios of what might have happened to them. I know what dangers are out there but I try not to think about them.

I also try not to think about the fact that I haven’t seen Daryl since the funeral. It’s not like he owes it to me to check in or anything but I am worried about him. I don’t know how close he was to Sophia but he had been out looking for her. Loosing anyone is devastating. I can’t even imagine what it is like to lose a child. My train of thought brings me back to yet another issue I have been avoiding and my hand comes up to my stomach. I can’t help but wonder if a child might already be growing there.

“Need some help?”

With a startled gasp, I drop the plate I was holding. Luckily, I was holding it over the table so it only fell a few inches and is completely unscathed. Only a few pieces of cornbread managed to escape.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to surprise you.” I turn to see the woman from earlier standing next to me placing the silverware on the table next to the plates I already set out. I can’t remember her name but I can remember the screams she made when her daughter walked out of the barn. “I’m Carol by the way.”

“Mel.” I offer since I have not spoken to her before now. I want to say that I am sorry for her loss but those words are meaningless to the person grieving. It is nothing more than a way to acknowledge someone’s pain and I don’t want to do that. If she is anything like me, then you try not to think about things. In hopes that they become nothing more than faded memories until one day you aren’t even sure they really existed in the first place.

I’m still working on the first step myself so I’m not sure if it is a proven method of coping.

We finish setting the table in amicable silence then Carol helps me carry out the food I prepared. Now that I See the food on the table, all of the pride I had been feeling starts to falter. It is then that I start to realize that other people are going to eat it. What if it isn’t any good? I know I’m not much in the kitchen but I have never cooked for strangers before. If it was my family they would have suffered through my horrible cooking all the while sporting smiles and giving nonstop compliments about how great the food was.

I know in a world where the dead are walking, people probably can’t be picky about what they eat but I am still nervous.

“It looks wonderful.” Carol says from beside me and I’m not sure if she knows I am having second thoughts or if she just has excellent timing. Either way I appreciate the reassurance.

“Thank you.”

Wiping my hands on the apron I’m still wearing I try to remember the last time I have eaten at a table gathered around others. You know, like a civilized person.

It has been a while and oddly enough I find myself looking forward to it. Having a sense of normalcy might do me some good.

I look up as the others start to come inside and I’m introduced to some of the people I haven’t met yet. I offer a smile but I don’t really hear what is being said to me. I am too busy trying to keep my breathing calm. Being completely surrounded by unknown people is making me nervous and for some reason I seek out Daryl. Hoping that he will be here and I can focus on a face I know, but he is nowhere to be found in the crowded room.

While I am searching for him I do see Shane walk through the door. Our eyes briefly meet and before I can look away he has the nerve to wink at me. Not wanting to give him the satisfaction of knowing that he terrifies me on every level, I turn around and walk into the kitchen. Once I am alone in the room I grab the pitcher of tea I made earlier and allow myself a few deep calming breaths before having to face all those people again. Shane included.

When I return to the dining room a few minutes later Shane is sitting where Hershel normally would. At the head of the table. I want to punch him in his smug face. He knows damn well that if Hershel was here he wouldn’t even be allowed into the house after the stunt he pulled earlier today. Yet here he is acting like he has been elected the new head of the household. I haven’t been here long enough to know the dynamics of their group but from the small things I have seen so far, Rick is their leader. Even if Shane doesn’t want to accept it.

I start to wonder if he has done something to Hershel and Rick. He is way too comfortable sitting where he is and making jokes with people. A smug smile on his face. I hope I am wrong and they are fine because I don’t want to be a part of anything Shane is leading. I’d rather take my chances on my own again.

Whenever I look at him a sinking pit starts to form in my stomach. There is no doubt in my mind that he is nothing more than self-serving. He doesn’t care about any of the people currently gathered around him. It is all a show and he would have no problem throwing any one of them under a bus if it ultimately benefitted him.

Patricia walking past me on her way to wash her hands brings my attention back to the room. When I look up I see Shane watching me and holding up an empty glass. Signaling that he wants some of the tea I am still holding.

Alright. Well, I guess I’m a waiter now.

I want nothing more than to act like I didn’t see him but I also want to take back control of my life again. And I am going to start by refusing to be bullied by the likes of him. My feet are surprisingly steady as I walk across the dining room to fill his glass. I only stand as close as I need to pour the drink giving me enough space to keep my distance from him.

I have the thought that this might be some kind of mind game he is playing but luckily, he doesn’t seem too interested in what I am doing. Instead he is talking to Rick’s son, Carl.

“Carl. I want you to keep your head up. Your old man is a tough son of a bitch-”

“No cussing in the house.” Patricia interrupts him and adds a stern glare to her words.

He nods and I presume that is his form of an apology. I just finished filling his glass and I’m about to walk as far away from him as I can when I feel a soft brush against my arm.

The unwanted touch has me pulling my arm away with such force that the liquid I am still holding splashes all over me.

“Woah now.” I hear Shane’s voice over the sudden noise filling my own head. “You alright?”

I open my eyes even though I don’t remember closing them and see everyone staring at me. Shane seems to be just as shocked as I am. I start to think that I imagined the touch on my arm but I can still feel it like a dull burn. I look around the table to see everyone still watching me with different expressions on their face. Ranging from shock to pity. It is all too much and I mumble what I think is an apology before I quickly make my way out of the room and into the kitchen.

I put the pitcher, which was now mostly empty, on the counter and lean over the sink.

Deep breath in……. deep breath out.

I stay here forcing myself to breath until the trembling in my limbs starts to slow. The tears rolling down my face are the only clue I have that I started crying. They are coming more freely these days and it is to the point that I find myself wiping them off my face without even realizing I started crying in the first place.

I’m sure if I was in the old world I would be put on medication by now but unfortunately things can’t be fixed with a simple pill anymore. I am required to deal with it on my own because even in a room filled with people I am still alone.

“Mel.” A soft voice comes from the doorway. I quickly wipe the remaining evidence of my breakdown off my face before I turn around. When I do, it is to see Carol standing there holding a plate of food. “If you don’t mind would you bring this out to Daryl? He won’t eat if someone doesn’t make him.”

She doesn’t try to come closer. Instead, she puts the plate on the counter in front of her and slides it across toward me. Carol understands what it is like to lose so much. To be on that edge of hopelessness. I can see the look in her eyes. It is the same one that stared back at me when I looked in the mirror.

Defeat.

Without waiting for my answer and without another word, she turns around and joins the others back in the dining room. I can hear Shane’s voice followed by his thunderous laugh. Suddenly filling sick to my stomach again I grab the plate Carol made and push open the back door. Escaping into the night air.

 

* * *

* * *

 

Now that I have a task that needs to be done I start my search of Daryl. He isn’t next to the RV where Rick and the others are camped out at so I scan the farm hoping for some clue of where he is. I’m about to give up when I see the faint light of a campfire fire next to the remains of a plantation house.

It is a good hike but I don’t mind. I found the more distance I put between me and the farmhouse full of people the easier it is to breathe. I did wonder why he was camped all the way out here and not with the rest of his group but he did seem like the type that liked his privacy. When I finally make it to what I hope is Daryl’s camp, the fire I had been using as a beacon was quickly fading.

There is a tent set up and I suddenly worry that he might be asleep and he might not want to be bothered. He is probably still healing. After all it has only been a couple of days since his whole gunshot ordeal and because of me he has spent those two nights sleeping in a chair instead of in a bed.

I had every intention of turning around and going back but the thought of being trapped in the room makes me stop. Carol said that he wouldn’t eat unless someone made him and his body was still healing so he needed food. That is my reasoning of why I continued to walk until I was standing next to the tent.

“Daryl.” It was more of a whisper but I have the feeling he is always alert even when he is sleeping.

There is no response and I see that the flap of the tent isn’t secure. I push it aside so that I can peek inside to see if he is even in the tent.

There is nothing but an empty sleeping bag and a backpack occupying the two-person shelter. Still holding the plate, I sit down next to what was once the fire. Now it is nothing more than glowing embers. The heat still radiated from the pit though and managed to battle some of the chill in the air I felt.

Picking up a stick I spend some time poking at the bright red pieces of wood. Watching as each time I prodded, specks of orange shot into the sky and danced briefly before burning out. It reminds me of watching fireflies with my sister when we were younger. I remember that I once suggested we use mason jars to catch some but she refused. Insisting that something so beautiful shouldn’t be trapped.

The sound of footsteps coming towards me pulls me out of memory lane and has me standing up. I am suddenly uncertain of why I am intruding in Daryl’s space. He hasn’t invited me here but then I remember the plate of food sitting beside me and pick it up. Holding it out like a peace offering.

When he walks around the tent he seems taken aback by my presence and stops short. He’s holding an armful of sticks and lets them drop to the ground.

“What’re you doin here?” he asks as he starts to break the larger sticks over his knee.

“Carol asked me to bring you some food.” I hold the plate up a little higher as proof of my words.

“Ain’t she a peach.” I flinch as he basically spits the words at me.

“I-I’m sorry I didn’t mean to bother you.” I find myself placing the offering on the stump before I start to walk in the opposite direction. Back towards the suffocating room.

 

**Daryl’s POV**

Dammit I didn’t mean to scare her but there was no missing the way she jumped when I spoke.

I hate that I care. That I am the reason she has a hurt look on her face. I’m not someone she should be around. Honestly after finding Sophia earlier I’m done caring about anyone else. Merle hammered it into me early on that the only people who mattered were us. I need to remember that.

And yet, despite all that I still open my mouth to talk.

“What happened to ya?”

I hold my breath until she stops walking and turns around. I nod my head at the light blue shirt she is wearing. Parts of the shirt have turned a darker blue and I can see several outlines of brown stains splattered all over the garment.

Her eyes go down to see what I am looking at and she pulls the bottom of her shirt out so that she has a better view of the damage.

“It’s nothing. Just an accident.” The sigh and the way she is trying to scrub the shirt doesn’t make it seem like it is nothing but I would drop it if she wanted.

“How’s your friend?”

She stops trying to clean her shirt and looks back up. “Beth? She is the same. Maggie thinks it might be shock. I guess Rick and Glen went to find Hershel but they aren’t back yet.”

I nod as I throw the last of the firewood on the fire. Lori had come to me earlier asking me to go fetch her husband. Like I was at her beckoned call. Hell, the only time the uppity bitch talked to me was to ask me for something. Like I said, I am done with these people. They are nothing but drama.

The girl is still standing there so I grab the plate she brought up for me. Using my hands, I pick up a piece of the meat and take a bite.

“Je-Jesus” I manage to say in between a coughing fit. I grab my canteen of water and take a long sip.

“Sorry.” I watch as she nervously plays with her hands. clearly upset, “I accidentally spilt more salt then I wanted on the roast. I thought I washed it all off before I cooked it.”

“Apparently not.” I say as I take another drink. Hoping to drown the overwhelming taste out of my mouth.

What did she do spill the whole damn can of salt?

 

**Mel’s POV**

I knew I should have tasted the food before serving it. Now everyone is probably eating the roast and talking about me. The only reason I even care is because these people know nothing about me except what has happened to me. So, there was no telling what they are going to say.

Everyone knows. I’m not stupid. I heard them whispering when I walked by: “That poor girl”, “She’s so young”. It is impossible to forget things when is was the only thing people see when they look at you.

“Cornbread’s good.”

“What?” His words stopped the spiral I was beginning to fall down. When I look at his face I see that Daryl doesn’t look at me the way the others do. He doesn’t see me as that one defined thing.

“You make the cornbread?” I nod as he takes another bite “Not bad.”

“Thanks.” I find myself smiling at the compliment and I even walk back toward the fire. I sit down opposite him with the flames between us. He looks even harsher with the glow of the fire highlighting his face but I don’t feel that bubble of panic I am starting to grow used to.

I watch in horror as he picks up another piece of tainted meat like he is going to eat it.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

“Wasn’t that bad.” He shrugs and continues to bring it up to his mouth.

“Wasn’t that bad? You almost choked to death.” I reach over and grab a piece from his plate and take my own bite.

As soon as it hits my tongue I spit it out.

“That’s awful! Don’t eat that.” I take the container of water he offers me and I see what I think might be the resemblance of a smile on his face. I would call it more of a smirk but I find myself laughing at my failed attempt at cooking for the first time.

I haven’t laughed since that night. It feels good to laugh. I have Daryl and my lack of cooking skills to thank.

Of course, the rare feeling doesn’t last because I hear an engine of a car coming our way. We both stand up watching as the car races away from the farmhouse and toward the main road. I was barely able to see Shane sitting in the driver’s seat from all the dust he was kicking up from the dirt road.

I’m curious where he is headed in such a hurry but I am gladder to see him go.

“I should head back.” I don’t want to overstay my welcome and Daryl is probably tired of dealing with me. Plus, the house doesn’t seem as bad now that Shane is no longer occupying it.

“I’ll go with you. See what’s going on.” I watch as he grabs his crossbow and dumps a bucket of water on the fire. The hiss of steam rising and joining the night’s air breaks the silence. 

* * *

* * *

 

When we get back to the house I go to check on Beth. Her door is open but she is still lying in bed. The exact same way I left her in earlier.

Her blue eyes are open and fixated on the ceiling above her. The only movement and sign of life is her chest rising slowly up and down and her eyes occasionally blinking. It is incredible what your body will do in its attempt to protect you.

Harmony had been in a state like this after what happened to us but it wasn’t this severe. It got to the point that she no longer resembled my sister at all. She would walk and nod when I asked her a question but everything else was shut down. My sister hadn’t been able to handle what happened to her and in the end neither could daddy.

I hold Beth’s hand hoping to focus on the girl in front of me. Then I found myself praying to a God, that I’m not sure is even listening, that Beth would pull through.

* * *

* * *

 

I must have made it back to my room at some point because I woke up alone and under the blankets of my bed. My hand now clutching Daryl’s vest instead of Beth’s hand.

I ‘m still thankful to see that my nightmares are taking a break and have stayed at bay since arriving at the farm. I want to believe that it is because nothing bad can break through a place so beautiful but then I remember Beth lying in the room down the hall from me.

The first thing I do is walk to where she is. Maggie and Patricia are looking over her but Beth hasn’t improved.

“How is she?” I ask.

“Dehydrated.” Patricia looks physically drained as she speaks. “I’ll set up an IV but without Hershel it’s the best I can do.”

Patricia leaves the room to get the items she needs to start Beth on an IV. Leaving me alone with Maggie.

“Can I get you anything?” I ask in an attempt to feel useful.

“No. I just want daddy to come back.”

“He will. We just have to be strong for Beth until she pulls through.” I have no doubts that she will.

Maggie turns to me and offers up a sad smile, “I was just reminding her of the time she and Harmony caught me with Jimmy Novak in the barn one night.”

I returned her smile with one of my own, “I don’t think I have the pleasure of knowing that story.”

“Figures. They promised not to tell a soul.” I can do nothing but watch as Maggie brushes a strand of Beth’s blonde hair off her face before continuing. “My first summer back from college and Jimmy drove me home since I didn’t have a car and we both went to Georgia Southern. When we got here daddy and them weren’t home yet. You might recall I was a little wild then and I got it in my head that I needed to repay him for his troubles. Plus, you remember how good lookin he was in that football jersey?” I nod remembering the former quarterback for our high school “Well we went out to the barn and things started to get a little heated. I guess at some point daddy and the girls came back from bible study and Harmony was going to spend the night. They saw my bags in my room and went looking for me. Beth figured I was in the stables and she was right. I was about to take my shirt off when the next thing I knew I had two teenage girls screaming and running toward where I was on the floor all the while hitting poor Jimmy.”

We both laugh as she retells the story

“Luckily things hadn’t gotten too far between us but I swear he fell from the hayloft straight to the ground and didn’t stop running until he was in his car.”

The story brings me mixed emotions. I did love hearing someone else’s memory of my sister because it was proof that she had been real and that others remember her. On the other side a sharp pain started in my chest every time Maggie would say her name.

I head back to my room and take up my spot in the corner of the bed. The now familiar piece of leather is once again in my hands. My fingers tracing the outline of the angel wings like it is an old friend. I try to figure out the fascination I had with it but for the life of me I couldn’t make the connection. The leather is worn and smooth to the touch. The stitching is coming apart in several places and yet even damaged it manages to keep me captivated. 

A floor board squeaking brings my attention to the door. Daryl is standing there with his crossbow slung over his shoulder.

“Headed out to look for Hershel. You good?”

“Yeah.” I answer.

With another one of his nods, he turns and starts to walk down the hallway.

“Wait.” I say and I realize it sounds more frantic than I intended but he still stops and looks at me. “I -uh. Can I have my knife back?”

After Daryl went back to his tent last night I heard Shane return. I quickly realized how alone I was with Daryl and Hershel gone. I know it isn’t their job to protect me but I feel safe with them around. Last night I stayed with Beth worrying if every sound I heard was actually someone that wanted to hurt me.

Before handing me my knife I see him watch my face. He is probably looking for any sign that I want to use the blade to hurt myself.

I don’t. I just want something so that I feel a little more secure even when I am alone. I can’t live my life relying on others to keep me safe.

He must approve of what he sees because he finally hands me the knife hilt first.

“Thank you.” I tuck it under my pillow and watch as he leaves again.

I want to tell him to be careful but what good is that going to do? He is more than capable of handling himself and my words aren’t going to change that. However, I do find myself looking out the window of my room and I watch as Shane finishes packing the car. I think it is strange that Shane wants to go look for Rick and Hershel since I know he is perfectly fine without them being here.

Without them he thinks he is the leader and I don’t think he would fancy having to step down and fall back in line when the others returned.

The roar of an engine stops what everyone is doing and I see a red bronco making its way toward the farm. I know it is Hershel’s car. He would drive that thing everywhere around town. It isn’t long before what I thought is confirmed and Hershel, Rick, and Glen exit the beat-up truck. I stand watching from the sidelines as everyone is reunited with the people they love.

The exact words are silenced from the glass of the window which muffled any sounds from reaching the second story but I am still happy to see the reunion. I’m happy that Hershel and the others have made it back and I’ll admit that I am a little happy that Daryl doesn’t have to leave the farm.

It’s not there is anything good out there anyway.

I start to get confused as everyone gathers around the backseat of the truck. From my angle, I’m not able to see anything other than the back of everyone’s head. Whatever is in the car seems to be causing trouble because everyone is yelling and pointing. Curiosity is about to win out and I am about to head downstairs so I can see what everyone is looking at when Daryl and T-Dog pull someone out from the back seat. The face is covered by a bag but from the body I know it is a man under the hood.

He is limping as the two men push him toward the small shed next to the barn.  

 

**Daryl’s POV**

I have no damn clue what was going through Rick’s mind when he decided to bring this guy back to the farm. I know I brought the girl back without approval but she hadn’t been firing a gun trying to kill me seconds before I decided to save her. Which according to Glen, was what this guy was doing right before he took a quick tumble off a roof and onto the pointy end of a wrought iron fence.

“He’s a heavy son of ‘a bitch.” I say to T-Dog as we both struggle to keep the unconscious guy upright.

Patricia and Hershel are rushing around the small space trying to set up a makeshift operation room. I personally feel like we shouldn’t be wasting all of this medical stuff on someone we don’t know. Not when we have at least one pregnant woman, Lori, in the group.

Not to mention that at the rate everyone keeps putting themselves in danger it is only a matter of time before another serious injury occurs within our ranks.

What if we use everything on this piece of shit and someone we actually care about dies because of it?

But no one asked me my opinion.

“Lay him down here.” Hershel points to a rusty rolling cart and T-Dog and I maneuver the dead weight over and we try our best to lay him down gently.

Patricia immediately pulls the bag that is been covering his face off and replaces it with an oxygen mask. He is no more than a kid. Doesn’t look more than nineteen maybe twenty.

“Tell me when your done I’ll tie him up.” I offer as I walk out of the barn so Hershel can work.

 

**Mel’s POV**

The floral print wallpaper is starting to give me a headache.

After rolling up the vest I slide it under my pillow and feel something that I somehow almost forgot about. My fingers grasp it hesitantly. You would think it is a snake I am touching by the way I’m acting. I check to make sure my door is still closed before I finally pull the small package out from under the pillow and into plain sight.

Without looking at it, I stand up and slide the test into my pocket then open my door. Surprisingly I am pretty calm. I think it is because I’m still not certain I am going to go through with taking the test. The bathroom is unoccupied and I go inside, shutting the door behind me.

I stand here frozen with my back against the door for what feels like hours. Completely afraid to move. All the while the item in my pocket seems to grow heavier by the second. Just begging to be used. My hands finally realize the turning point my life is at and start to shake as I make up my mind.

It’s amazing how something so small has the power to change my life forever. I debate if I should just put it back in its hiding place because what good is knowing going to do? I am either pregnant or I’m not and there is nothing that this stick can do to change that. All it will do is confirm it either way.

My hands are fumbling in their attempt to open the thin plastic wrapper until finally they succeed. I check the door for the third time to make sure the door is still locked. Then, not finding another way to stall, I move toward the toilet and start to unbutton my jeans. I don’t have the directions on how to use the thing but from everything I have seen on television and in movies it seems simple enough.

* * *

* * *

 

It’s done but I still refuse to look at the stupid little stick. It is just sitting on the counter next to the sink and here I am sitting on the floor staring up at it still trying to work up the nerve to read the results.

I’m faintly aware that someone is knocking on the door and rattling the old metal knob. There is another bathroom they can use if they need to. Don’t they know my future depends on a piece of plastic?

“Mel?”

I continue to ignore them. I think the voice belongs to Carol’s but I’m not sure. I don’t care.

“Honey open the door. You are scaring people.”

Still don’t care. I’m relieved as I watch her feet from the space under the door leave my sight. I know it wouldn’t be long before the next person comes to the door in an attempt to make sure I am okay.

I’m out of time. Slowly I gather the strength I need to push myself off the floor. My arms are shaking under my own weight and with one last deep breath I force myself to look at the results.

 

**Daryl’s POV**

“What do you mean she won’t come out?” I ask Carol.

“Exactly what I said. She has locked herself in the upstairs bathroom and won’t come out. She won’t even answer me.”

Before the woman has the chance to finish her last sentence I’m already running back into the house. My feet take the stairs two at a time as fear pushes me faster. I ignore all the shouts of concern from the others as I run past them.

When I gave her the knife back I thought she was fine. What if I was wrong?

The thought of what might be on the other side of the door has me kicking at it before I even try the doorknob. On the third kick the old wood splinters and the door pushed open giving me access inside.

It’s empty.

I was already working on an apology for Hershel about the door when I hear muffled crying. The shower curtain is pulled closed but the sounds are definitely coming from the other side.

Slowly I pull the plastic back to reveal the girl sitting in the dry tub, fully clothed. Her knees are pulled up to her chest and her head is buried into her knees. A messy curtain of auburn hair shielding her face.

“Daryl.” Carol calls my name and I look over at her. It takes me a second to realize what she is holding but when I do I quickly figure out it is a pregnancy test. The word ‘Pregnant’ in purple letters faces looks back at me.

“Shit” I breathe and start rubbing my hands over my face. My first thought is to run away. I only need to look after myself. None of this is my problem.

But the muffled sniffling is becoming full blown crying and I know I can’t leave her. I reach down but as soon as I touch her arm she throws herself backwards, slamming her head against the tiled wall behind her.

“GET AWAY FROM ME! DON’T TOUCH ME!” She’s screaming and slapping my hands away. I let her because I know she is feeling a pain I can’t begin to imagine.

After a while she starts to exhaust herself and the desperate screams die back down to soft crying. Her arms are limp at her side. This is when I decide to pick her up. Sliding one arm under her back and the other under her knees. She weighs practically nothing. I expected more fighting from her but the only movement she makes is when her arms lock around my neck and she clings to me. Her crying is being muted by my shirt.

Of course, everyone has decided that this is somehow their business and are all gathered in the hallway. I turn in a way I hope is shielding her from all the nosey on lookers. This is her hurt and she doesn’t need to share it with all of these people.

Carol follows until the girl and I are inside her room then she shuts the door behind us. Shutting everyone else out. I lay her on the bed and she instantly turns to her side so that she is facing the wall. Putting her back to me. Curled into herself like she is trying to turn her her body into the tiniest ball she can. She hasn’t stopped shaking and I’m not sure if it is because she is cold or if it is just from her crying.

I don’t know what to do. I have never been in a situation like this before. Maybe I should grab Carol and have her come in here. I find myself going to the door three times before I stop myself. Each time I never advance past touching the door knob. As uncomfortable and useless as I feel right now a part of me doesn’t want to leave her.

My hands run over my face like they can erase what is happening but when they fall away nothing has changed.

I sit in the chair that might as well be my second home and listen as her soft cries continue to fill the room. My chest grows tighter with each sob.

 

**Mel’s POV**

I don’t know what to do. A part of me wishes that my body would diagnose how much trouble I am in. Maybe double its efforts to protect me. Just allow me the pleasure to shut down like Beth did.

But in what I can only assume is some sick attempt to drive me insane, my mind is instead working overtime. Managing to pull up every thought and image it can possibly think of to push me further over the edge.  

I cry until I feel hollow. It’s like the well has simply run dry. There is nothing left. It doesn’t matter because even with all the crying I still don’t feel any better. Picking up the tear stained pillow I throw it off the bed.

I don’t even remember how I got here or how long I have been sitting in this room. The only clue I have of what time it is, is the pink light flooding my room as the sun makes its way below the horizon. Casting its dying light on the two things that were hiding under my pillow.

Daryl’s vest and my daddy’s knife.

I stare at the two objects as I lay on my side. I can choose either one right now. Gradually my hand goes toward the blade. I have seen it hanging off my daddy’s belt since I was a child and never once had I thought it was anything special. My fingers hover over the textured handle. This is the last physical thing I have of his. Everything else is lost.

My mouth feels dry and I know what I am doing. If I pick up that knife then I can end my problems and there is the possibly that I will see my family again. I think about it for a long while. It is the easier route and even though it might hurt for a little bit in the end I wouldn’t feel pain ever again.

Pain to end pain.

Clenching my fist as an inhuman noise leaves my throat I reach up and grab Daryl’s vest. In doing so I abandon all thoughts of giving up. I don’t run my fingers over it like I normally do. Instead I just bring it up to my face and feel the leather against my wet cheek.

Numbness starts to set in as the room becomes dark. I don’t move. I don’t do anything but stare at the godawful wall. Patterned pictures of magnolias surrounded by a deep burgundy cover the entire thing. Every wall in this room has the same suffocating thing repeated over and over again.

I hate it.

I hate everything about this room. I sit up and grab the lamp that sits on the side table next to me. I feel the weight in my hand and take a second to admire the glass etching circling the base. Some artist spent a lot of time putting those small details into it.

I hate how pretty it is.

With a grunt, I throw it across the room and listen as the satisfying sound of it shattering fills the perfect space. I don’t want to be in a room that is perfectly made. I don’t belong here. I grab the next thing on the nightstand and don’t even bother looking at it before I toss it. Then the next and the next.

When the nightstand is empty I get off the bed and turn the table itself over. Then I start to scream as I pull the blanket and sheets off the bed. I scream until my throat is raw. I want to share with the room all of the anger I have. I want to make it understand.

My life wasn’t supposed to turnout this way.

Harmony didn’t deserve what happened to her.

I don’t deserve what happened to me.

I’ve done everything I was told. I tried to be a role model. I followed rules. When you do those things you are supposed to get rewarded.

One last scream and I fall to my knees. My breathing too fast and my heart pounding in my chest.

I see movement from the corner of the room but my fight or flight senses don’t care. I just stay here waiting until the thundering in my ears starts to calm down.

“You done?” I know that voice. It’s Daryl.

I should be ashamed for throwing a tantrum like I just did but I don’t have it in me.

My head stays bowed but I nod my response.                   

“I-I can’t stay in this room anymore. This house.” I manage to say between my struggles to bring air into my lungs.

His boots leave my field of vision and I hear him walk toward the door.

“C’mon.”

I look up and see him standing at my only exit. What is he saying? What does he want me to do? He jerks his head toward the door and I make myself stand up. My legs are shaky but I force them to take those first few steps.

A familiar black piece of leather is crumpled on the floor and I bend down to pick it up before I follow Daryl out of the suffocating room.


	3. Painted House

**Daryl’s POV**

I am quickly becoming familiar with the feeling of complete and utter uselessness.

It. Pisses. Me. Off.

I just sat back and watched as the girl destroyed the room. I probably should have stopped her but I’d rather her break a few things then do what she had thought about doing. I had silently watched the battle she had with herself about the knife. Watched as her hand was hovering over it and damn near let out the breath I had been holding when she grabbed my vest instead. I couldn’t tell her what the right choice was, she had to decide on her own.

She did.

I don’t know why I care so much but my eyes keep going back to her to make sure she is okay. I see she is still holding the vest. Her fingers rubbing along the edge and her eyes focused on the fire in front of her like she is in some trance. At least her eyes are no longer red and her cheeks no longer tear stained. I don’t know why I brought her out here. Well, other than the fact that she sounded like she was in physical pain when she said she couldn’t be in that room or house anymore. I understood where she was coming from on that end at least.

Having all those walls and people around you can be suffocating.

“Get some sleep” I nod toward my tent set up behind her.

Her eyes never break away from the fire as she shakes her head dismissing me.

What the hell was I doing? I should be worrying about taking care of myself. Not some girl I just met.

All of my life it has always been just me and Merle, we didn’t need anyone else. I knew my brother was the only one to give a damn about me. Everyone else saw us Dixons as garbage. Hell, they were probably right. We never gave them any reason to think otherwise.

Once again I find my eyes drawn upward and studying the face of the girl sitting across from me. I notice the soft light from the fire causes her to look even more delicate. The dark circles under her eyes make them seem more sunken in, the once vibrant green now seemed dull and her cheekbones more prominent.

She’s on the verge of giving up I can see it in her face.

I run my hands over my face out of frustration. Merle’s deep voice sounds from the back of my head telling me _to forget her, she’s nothing to us_ but for the first time in my life I ignore him. He’s looked after me my entire life but he isn’t here now. I don’t know the first damn thing about babysitting someone but I do know we are both alone.

 

**Mel’s POV**

I miss my family. It’s not the first time since I lost them that I wish they were still here but for the first time in my life I don’t have my support system. No matter what was happening I could always go to Harmony or daddy and after talking to them I knew everything would be okay.

Not now. Not this time.

Even knowing that Daryl is sitting near me I still feel alone.

I am too horrified to face reality head on. I can’t. Not after finding out what I did.

So I sat focusing on the fire Daryl had made, I know it is more for my benefit than his, and I let my mind wander. It can do whatever it wants as long as it kept blessing me with this veil of numbness that had settled over me as soon as I followed Daryl out of that room.

As I gust of wind blows I think about the volatile relationship fire and wind have. Wind should be fires worse enemy and at times it is. Like the flame on a birthday candle, one puff of air from a child and the light is extinguished.

But when the fire is strong enough it becomes a different story. I think about the beginnings of a wildfire in California when the wind blows it only excites the fire causing it to fight back. Mocking what is trying to snuff it out. With each blow of the wind the fire grows proving that the wind is only fueling its fight. Until it ultimately destroys everything in its path.

I wanted to be like that wildfire. No matter how hard the wind blew I wanted to fight back but I wasn’t kidding myself I was nothing more than the birthday candle and at the rate things were going I was going to give in sooner rather than later.

Just like my sister and father did.

“Let’s go.” The clipped command takes me out of my thoughts. I hadn’t even noticed that Daryl was standing beside me until I look up just in time to see him start walking toward the woods. Further from the house.

A short debate starts up in my mind. _Do I want to follow him?_

Ultimately curiosity and the fact that I don’t think I can sit here by myself without my problems making a reappearance in my mind has me standing and following after him.

The sun is barely starting to rise above the pine trees. I shiver, now that the fire is no longer fighting back the chill from the night before I feel exposed. Without thinking I take the vest that I have grown so attached to and put it on. It doesn’t offer much protection from the cold. The vest is too large and hangs off me but I find comfort in the weight as it rests on my back.

Neither of us has said a word since we started walking. I haven’t said a word since leaving that room but I really don’t have anything to say. I just stare at his back as the sound of birds waking up start to fill in the silence between us.

The funny thing about being numb is that my brain is only telling my body to do what it needs to keep me alive. Which right now was breathing and stumbling through the woods.

When Daryl finally stops walking, I’m vaguely aware that I’m sweating and the sun is now shining down on us. A part of me wants to keep walking. As illogical as it sounds maybe I can keep going and leave my problems behind.

A sudden flash of movement catches my attention and I turn to see that Daryl is now kneeling on the ground, motioning for me to come closer. It takes five steps to close the gap then I’m kneeling down next to him. At first I think he has spotted some kind of danger but when I look at him his hand is stroking his chin like he is lost in thought.

“What do you see?” His voice is a stark contrast to the silence just moments before.

I’m confused by his question because when I scan the woods in front of us there is nothing but trees. We are surrounded by trees and as far as I can tell nothing else.

“Not there. Here.” He points at the ground in front of us and I notice a few indents in the ground.

“Animal tracks?” Is that the answer he is looking for?

He nods once, “What kind?”

 _Jesus what the hell was this? Some kind of quiz show._ How was I supposed to know the answer, I wasn’t a boy scout or even a girl scout for that matter.

He points again and I look closer. It rained a few days ago and the critter must have run through here then, leaving nothing but four distinct little paw prints in the mud. I know it’s not a dog and they are too big to be a squirrels.

Racking my brain, I think of all the animals that live in these woods. Daryl is quietly waiting for my answer while I do a little deductive reasoning. The outlines of the little claws give me a clue. Since we don’t have a lot of dangerous game in southern Georgia I figure they are probably used more for climbing trees.

I take a guess, “Racoon?”

He nods again confirming my answer. I feel a little pride at being right.

That is until he asks, “How old are the tracks?”

 _Oh come on._ Did people other than forensic scientist and Bear Grylls really know things like that? It was honestly luck that had me getting the last question right.

He must have seen the unbelieving look on my face and decided that I would have no clue how to even begin answering that. When he took my hand I froze and had to fight my initial reaction to pull away from him. Taking a deep breath, I remind myself that I trust Daryl. So I let him put my hand flat on the ground, next to the tracks in question. Then he applied a little pressure on my index finger and I felt the damp ground give way as it squished into the dirt. When his weight pulled away from my hand I lifted it and saw the clear imprint left in the dirt.

* * *

* * *

 

We spent all day in the woods. I learned more in a few hours with Daryl then I have in a year at college. At least the things he was teaching me were useful these days. I was by no means an expert tracker but he had taught me some basics. Like how a bent blade of grass could tell me how long ago a deer walked through or how the crispness of a track outline could tell if something was nearby or not. The most important part was that I wasn’t thinking or worrying about what had happened yesterday.

When I saw the farmhouse coming into view I started to feel that weight in the pit of my stomach again, it was no longer my safe haven. Luckily Daryl made his way to his camp and I followed after him hoping that he wouldn’t tell me to go back to the house. There would be questions and looks of sympathy thrown at me by all of those people and I couldn’t handle that right now.

Sitting in front of his tent were two Tupperware containers, he picked one up and opened the lid. I was embarrassed when my stomach growled as the smell of the contents reached my nose. I couldn’t remember the last time I ate. Other than the overly salted roast I think it was a sandwich Beth had made me but that was days ago. Still when he held the container out toward me I held up my hand refusing the offer.

“Eat.” The word, like most of his words, was growled at me but it was the look on his face that had me reach out and take the food. I knew Carol had been the one who left it for us, she seemed to be concerned when we ate.

Even though my stomach wanted the food I felt sick when I thought about eating. The knots in my stomach told me that it was highly likely that whatever went in was quickly going to come back up. But I was still under the watchful glare of Daryl so I picked up a green bean and took a bite. It seemed to please him because he turned his attention to his own food.

 

**Daryl’s POV**

The last three days have become a routine.

Before the sun comes up we go into the woods then we come back right as the sun is setting. Other than Merle I’ve never spent this much time with another person. I don’t mind her company though. She’s quiet, only talking when she has a question, showing a genuine interest in learning what little I can offer.

For the last couple of mornings, she has been up and waiting for me. I’m starting to wonder if she sleeps at all. Judging by the growing black rings under her eyes whatever sleep she is getting isn’t enough.

There is only the one tent and even though it is capable of holding two people comfortably I don’t want to cross any lines. Not that anything would happen between us but people talk and we didn’t need to give them any more than we already have to talk about. I personally didn’t give a shit if they talked about me but it was the girl I worried about. She didn’t need them assuming anything about her. She’s already been through enough in her young life.

 She must think its rude if she sleeps in the tent while I sleep outside so she’s declined each night. Both of us have been falling asleep under the stars. It was getting too cold for that though so tonight I was going to make her sleep in that tent even if I had to pick her up and throw her in.

I decided to change it up a little bit today and follow behind her. Letting her lead as we track a deer. She is quiet and when she turns back to look at me I nod to let her know she is on the right track. So far I have only had to correct her direction twice, but they were things that only someone who spent a lot of time tracking would have caught. So I’m pretty impressed by how quickly she has caught on.

The sound of a twig snapping further ahead has both of us crouching down. The weight of my crossbow is now balanced in my hand and I scan the woods. It doesn’t take me long to spot the flash of white from the tail of a deer.  Bumping her shoulder with my elbow I nod in the direction of the prey she had been following for the last couple of hours. Her eyes light up and a smile that punches me right in the gut fills her face.

That is how she should look. My chest puffs out a little more knowing that I managed to chase away the look she has been wearing the last few days. The one that didn’t fit with who she was as a person, and it didn’t take a genius to see that she was an honest to God good person.

Raising my bow, I have a clear shot of the deer. My finger is on the trigger even twitching slightly when a soft touch lands on my shoulder. I see her pointing at the deer and that is when I notice a fawn next to my target. It’s a little late in the season to see such a young one but I know if I shoot I would be sentencing the fawn to death as well.

If we were starving I wouldn’t care but the farm had plenty of food and from a hunter perspective the baby would grow up to ensure more game filled the woods. So I lowered the bow and heard the girl release a puff of air she had been holding.

I wasn’t a softy. Even Merle wouldn’t have been heartless enough not to appreciate the small act of compassion. Plus, it gave me another few moments to see the girl happy.

It’s a little unsettling the fact that I care so much about the girl’s happiness but if it means chasing those dark clouds from her eyes away I’d probably let the whole camp starve to death.

 

* * *

**Mel's POV**

It’s beautiful out here. What’s amazing is that not that long ago I was stumbling through these woods and at that time I was cursing them. I couldn’t wait to get out of them. Then Daryl found me, well saved me was more like it. Even though I had enjoyed my brief reprieve from nature now I preferred it over civilization.

It seems more simple out here.

There are no power plays or veiled threats being thrown around. You just existed. The smell of damp dirt, decaying leaves, and wet moss is quickly becoming my favorite perfume. Sorry Victoria’s Secret Love is heavenly, but I won’t be needing your services anymore.

It probably helped that I had a mean crossbow toting redneck by myside but I wasn’t afraid out here. Watching momma deer and her baby remind me that miracles still exist.

When I was a young girl I remember sitting in Sunday school and listening to the teacher talk about the miracles that Jesus had performed. I couldn’t have been more than eight but even then I didn’t understand why God chose to hide away from us. He wanted us to believe his word and yet we didn’t know if he was real. So I raised my hand and asked, “If God loves us and wants us to believe in him then why doesn’t he preform more miracles to prove himself?”

She had seemed taken aback by my question, being the preachers daughter she probably thought I would follow blindly without questioning such things.

Her answer, “He is not a magician that preforms, he doesn’t need to prove himself. We just need to have faith.”

Young me had felt cheated by the simple answer but I knew better then to question her further. Then that night at dinner I asked daddy the question again. He didn’t look mad, or shocked. He just set his fork down, clasped his hands in front of his face and gave a small smile.

“We are surrounded by his miracles every day.”

“Not things like turning water into wine.”

“Why is the sunrise and sunset less miraculous then that? I think it’s even better.” I didn’t understand why he thought a sunrise was amazing. It happened every day and I told him that. “But why do you think that is Mel? Maybe God knows how beautiful and perfect those things are and wants us to see them at the start and end of every day. Why is something as routine as a sunrise so easily forgotten? It was one of his fist miracles after all. It’s because we as humans forget to take comfort in the beauty he has given us. They are taken for granted. We are flawed but each day he still gifts us with a sunrise he found perfect enough to never change. His miracles are all around us, we just have to look.”

The familiar sound of growling and feet shuffling pull me out of my past memories and I start trying to find the source. It starts to get louder. Mamma deer hears it as well and is already running away with baby in tow. It doesn’t take long before the dead, or as Daryl affectionately calls them walker, shows its decaying face. This isn’t the first one we have come across since our time in the woods but I still feel a bubble of terror as the thing spots us and starts to stumble in our direction. I am still perched on the ground but quickly stand up. My feet can definitely outrun one of them. My main goal is just not to let them get close enough to touch me.

I was ready to start running when a sharp sound sounds to my right then a second later the walker falls to the ground. The end of a bright orange bolt sticking out of its head. Daryl walks over to the thing like it is no big deal, I wish I had his kind of composure. Nothing seemed to get him rattled where as I am ready to pee my pants and start running as soon as I see one of those things. His worn boots were on the head of his latest kill and with one quick pull he pulls his bolt out. The sickening sound of it being yanked out of flesh, bone, and whatever else has me leaning over and throwing up anything that is in my stomach. It isn’t much but my stomach wants to make sure it does a thorough job of emptying itself.

I hadn’t heard him walk back to me but Daryl was standing beside me. I could see his now bloodied shoes in my peripherals but bless him for not saying anything. This isn’t the first time I have gotten sick in front of him but it’s still embarrassing.

“Sorry.” I stand and wipe my mouth while nodding toward the walker “The smell got to me.” It was a lie and he knew it. I could smell the rotting thing but I was still too far away for it to be overpowering. I just refused to call it what it was -morning sickness.

Still he doesn’t call my bluff and just hands me a bottle of water he packed, “We’re done. Let’s head back.”

Disappointment falls over me; I don’t want to go back to the house. So far I have been lucky in not seeing anyone else but Daryl. The chances of that continuing are dramatically less the more time I spend on the farm.

A refusal to follow him is bouncing around in my head but I know better. There is no way I can make it very long out here without Daryl. I am still surprised I made it as long as I did alone in the woods before. Luck was the only thing that kept me alive previously, I had no survival skills and nothing but an old hunting knife then.

Realization that I didn’t have my knife anymore hits me and I start to hate myself even more for completely relying on him to take care of any trouble we might run into. I wasn’t his responsibility but I was basically helpless, the most I could do was run away if I ran into trouble. The feeling of vulnerability and knowing that your life depended on another person was not a good one, in fact it was frightening.

For the most part I trust Daryl, I know that he will take care of any threat we might run into. Even with the fact that he is basically still a complete stranger to me. The dialog we’ve said to each other wouldn’t even fill up a page and none of it told me anything about him. All I knew was how he acted around me which apparently is all I need to go on these days. It’s a very different world from what I was used to just a few weeks ago. I need to remember that.  I need to protect myself.

* * *

* * *

 

The walk back to the farm felt entirely too short. Even though Daryl’s camp was a good distance from the other’s I could still see them hurrying about the farm. My eyes stayed on one form in particular, Shane was out in the open barking orders while the others did actual work. Guilt started to make an appearance when I thought about all the chores that needed tending to. If it was anything like daddy’s smaller farm, then there was always something that needed done.

The guilt quickly disappeared when I thought about having to force a smile on my face and carry a conversation with someone I don’t really care about. 

“Dammit!” My head turns toward the shouted curse and I see Daryl bending over the motorcycle that is parked near his bounty of squirrels.

I have nothing better to do so with a quick shrug I stand up and walk over to him. I am no mechanic and have absolutely zero clue how something as simple as a clock works let alone an engine but curiosity had gotten the best of me.

Daddy always hated motorcycles, he used to call them “Death on two wheels” but even with my fathers hatred of the two wheeled death traps I always found myself reading romance novels centered around a bad boy who was in a motorcycle club. You know the really trashy ones that you prayed your family never found if something happened to you.

Since I was useless and didn’t know how Daryl would feel about me watching him I stayed back silently observing as he worked. I could see his face in the reflective black surface of the motorcycle. His brows drawn together and his face smudged with black marks.

“Hand me that wrench will ya?” He spoke with a cigarette in his mouth and caught me off guard. I thought I was being quiet and out of the way but from my short time with Daryl I should have known he knew I was there. He seemed to know everything about his surroundings.

Luckily I know what a wrench looks like. I was in charge of handing daddy his tools when he worked on the tractor while Harmony held the flashlight steady for him.

Pushing the favored memory out of my head I step forward and hand him his requested tool. He never turns around and I avoid meeting his eyes in the shiny surface.  

“What are you doing?” My voice is soft and unused but he hears it nonetheless and stops to take the lit cigarette from his mouth.

A cloud of smoke fills the air around him when he answers, “Tightening the axel nuts.”

 _Oh okay. Makes sense. You don’t want the nuts falling off._ I say to myself since I have nothing intelligent to contribute to the conversation.

Feeling like I have nothing to do and that I am most definitely creeping on Daryl I start to shift my weight from one foot to the next. I don’t know where I fit in now, not in this world. It was so easy before when all you had to do was follow the rules laid out in life. It had been instilled in me since I was too young to remember. God’s rules, daddy’s rules, and the law pretty much told me everything I needed to know and do.

I’m not naïve I know people broke rules before the dead started walking but it was like all rules were gone now. People who were once good were doing horrible things to the ones they were supposed to care for. Everything has been turned upside down and I didn’t know what to think or do anymore. Someone like Daryl, I would have avoided at all costs in my other life. Everything about him screamed runaway and yet I find his presence soothing now.

“There you two are.” Carol’s voice is very motherly and when I look up she is smiling at me. At first I’m confused by how quickly she has managed to recover from the death of her daughter but then I remember what I am doing -forgetting. It’s possible that she chose the same way to cope. “Mel I wanted to let you know that Beth is finally awake and has been asking about you.”

My eyes squeeze shut when she tells me the news. So caught up in my own problems that I had completely forgotten about Beth. I don’t think it is possible to be anymore selfish and more of a worse friend then I am. I owe it to my sister and to Beth to check on her but just the thought of going back to that house has me physically feeling sick. It’s irrational. It’s just a damn house.

My arms wrap around my stomach and I pull Daryl’s vest tighter around me then I nod to Carol. Letting her know that I’ll walk back with her. I think I feel the weight of Daryl’s eyes on me but before I can confirm it he looks away and lights another cigarette. He’s probably sick of having me around, following him like a second shadow.

Carol is still smiling at me and I have the urge to slap it off her face. It’s not fair I know but what the hell was there to smile about? Pushing down the uncalled for anger I take a step and start walking back to the house. Hopefully I will be in a better mood before I see Beth.

“How are you holding up?” Carol asks and I already miss Daryl. He doesn’t ask stupid questions but I shouldn’t be mad. I think she is genuinely concerned for me.

“I’m fine.”

It is a simple answer. One that is vague and hopefully gets the point across that I don’t want to talk. It seems to work because the rest of the walk is quiet, only the sound of the grass under our feet makes any noise until we get close to the farm.

“We need more wood.” Shane is yelling to someone in the distance. I have to shield my eyes to see him since he is a good way off the ground. It looks like he is using the old wind vane tower to make some kind of lookout post. Which means he is planning on staying for a while. The moment he sees me looking at him his face transforms and he now has on a sickening smile. And if that isn’t enough to make me even more weary of him he has to talk to me. “Well, look who decided to come down off her hill and bless us with her presence. How ya doin darling?”

The only thing I can think about is the night he was in my room. I was helpless and if Daryl hadn’t shown up there is no telling what could have happened. I’m frozen. I should walk away but my brain isn’t working right. I’m weak and he knows it. He even seems satisfied that he is able to get that reaction out of me. I have no clue what he is trying to prove or why he hates me so much but he does. I can see it in the way his eyes darken and the way his upper lip basically goes into a snarl when he looks at me. He is one of those people who didn’t care about rules anymore.

“Enough Shane!” Rick yells and I watch as the hatred Shane has for me turns toward Rick managing to break whatever hold he has on me. I would feel sorry for the other man but Rick seems more than capable to take care of himself. I’m just relieved not to be under his glare anymore. Carols hand on my back urges me closer to the house and I allow her guidance. Anywhere away from Shane is a great idea.

* * *

* * *

 

The house looks the same. Even smells the same, like anise and vanilla so I know Patricia has recently made a batch of her famous cookies. They always sold out at the church bake sales and more than one person had tried and failed to pry her family’s secret recipe from her.

“Why don’t you take a shower while we finish up. Then you can take Beth her food.” After receiving a motherly smile from the older woman, I start up the stairs to the bathroom. I catch sight of my hands and pull away from the bannister. They are filthy. I shouldn’t be surprised since I’ve been in the woods all day everyday but I hadn’t thought about how I must look.

Here I am standing in a house that Hershel took a lot of pride in and kept it clean. While I no doubt look like I just rolled through a mud puddle. Trying to avoid touching anything else I practically run the rest of the way into the bathroom and close the door.

Rushing to the sink I turn the water on and shove my hands under it. I Watch as the water turns dark as it washes the dirt from my hands. When I finally get all of the dirt out from under my nails I relax and look in the mirror. I don’t recognize the person looking back at me. I’ve always been a tidy person and taken pride in my appearance. Nothing extreme I was a practical person who was raised by a man that poured everything he had into the church or the farm. My haircuts weren’t fashionable but they only cost me $6.99.

This person in the mirror -I don’t know who this is.

I look like I’ve lost ten pounds and even with my face slightly pink from sunburn I know underneath I have an unhealthy color to my skin. My hair is a mess and I grimace when I pull a stick out of the tangled maze. How had I not known there was a stick in my hair? Dirt is everywhere and I can’t believe Daryl or Carol never said anything. Well I guess it makes sense that Daryl didn’t -he was in about the same shape I was in.

Maybe I did know how I looked but just didn’t care. Why should I worry about if my clothes are clean or if my hair is perfect? The dead are walking around trying to eat us. Daryl understood that. It was probably why he is currently camped so far away from the people trying to pretend everything was fine and literally baking cookies.  Suddenly as I looked at the person in the mirror I didn’t care. Like I had said earlier, it is a different world and I was going to change with it.

But I am still going to have that overdue shower.

* * *

* * *

 

I forgot to bring a change of clothes and decide to throw back on what I had been wearing. My jeans that were quickly becoming more holes then denim, a grey t-shirt that Maggie had given me my first day here, Daryl’s long sleeve flannel shirt that he threw at me yesterday, and his vest.

I really should give it back to him and I will but not right now.

After throwing my hair up into a messy pile on top of my head I know I must look ridiculous. A shirt and vest two sizes too big accented with a tangled wet mess of hair. But I walk out of the steamy room without looking in the mirror and feeling a lot lighter.

“Mel will be here in a second, she’s just finishing up in the shower.” I follow the sound of my name and see Lori setting up lunch for Beth “-Maybe when your done eating you two can take a walk. It’ll do you good to get some fresh air.” Lori turns to me standing in the doorway and I return the small smile letting her know that I’m on board with her plan.

Beth is still in bed but at least she has moved from the last spot I saw her. Instead of laying on her back and staring at the ceiling she is now turned on her side facing the wall. All I can see is the back of her blonde head. She might be awake but she is definitely not better.

“You’re pregnant?” I stiffen at her words. Not only because of what she said but because of the way she said them. Harsh and accusatory, she didn’t sound like the Beth I knew. “How could you do that?”

I think that she is talking to me but then I realize that she doesn’t even know I am in the room. Lori answers, “I don’t really have a choice.”

“Do you think it will make a difference?”

“Of course it will.” Lori gives me a look that I have been avoiding. Pity. Then walks by me to get out of the room. I would like to say I know what she is going through but I honestly have no clue. She has a husband, a son, a family. I will be doing it all on my own.

Beth still hasn’t turned around and I’m seriously thinking about just about-facing and taking my own leave unnoticed but I owe Harmony and Beth a little more than my cowardice.

Forcing a now unfamiliar smile on my face all I can do is hope it looks more genuine than a grimace.

“Knock knock.” She doesn’t answer. This could be my last chance to turn around and go back to where I’m more comfortable but I can’t bring myself to leave her like this so I walk further into the room. Everything about the room screams teenage girl. Posters of male pop-stars are scattered on the wall quickly replacing the few horse posters that have managed to hold on to their space a little longer. The Yellow and grey color scheme make it seem bright and cheerful.

“Hey kiddo mind if I take a seat?” the only answer I receive is her scooting closer to the other side of the bed. Allowing me enough room to lay down beside her. I’ve known Beth for years, I’m almost certain her and my sister have been friends since before kindergarten. Every weekend they would alternate spending the night at each other’s houses. It got to the point that people honestly thought Beth was our sister. Admittedly I was a little jealous of their friendship. I had friends but nothing like what they had.

I feel a slight tremble in the bed and see Beth’s shoulders shaking like she is silently crying. Without thinking I have her in my arms and brushing her hair out of her face. With her back to me I can’t see her face but the sobs become louder and I just hold her tighter.

It’s something I have done for Harmony countless times. The first was when she was thirteen and her boyfriend of six months broke up with her for another girl, I was fetching her for dinner when I walked into her room and saw her crying. I had held her just like I am Beth and told her it was going to be alright. That Eric was an idiot and wouldn’t know a good thing if it bit him on the ass. She had laughed at my cussing; it was something neither of us were comfortable with but I felt it was appropriate then.

It was difficult going to daddy with any girl issues so she always went to me. I tried to be both a sister and a mother to her since we didn’t have one but I had nothing to go on. Mom died when I was too young to remember and way before I had any of my own issues with boys or my body. Still, I think Harmony knew that I tried.

“Wh-What happened to her?” Beth was still hiccupping and sniffling but at least her crying stopped.

I know what she is asking me but I don’t know what to tell her. She couldn’t be sheltered in this house, oblivious to the dangers outside the pretend safety net of the farm. But I don’t want her to know. I don’t want her to become jaded and I lose that piece of Beth that makes her special. The part her and Harmony shared. It is probably selfish of me but I need something from my past. An anchor and Beth is it.

“It doesn’t matter.”

She sits up in the bed and it’s the first time I’ve seen any part of her vertical in days, “How can you say that? I deserve to know.”

“Please don’t. Not now Beth.”

“I loved her just as much as you did. Tell me.”

Anger quickly surfaces to the front of my brain but I close my eyes and push it back.

“It. Doesn’t. Matter.” The bite of my nails in my palms tells me that somewhere along the line I clenched my fists. A few deep breaths and I manage to relax them and open my eyes. I’m met with such raw pain on Beth’s face that it makes me soften my own. “You’re here. She’s not. We have to move on.”

Before I’m able to comprehend what is going on she jumps off the bed and slams the door to her bathroom. My head falls back on the headboard with an audible thud. I wish there was some way to speed up the healing process for both Beth and myself but only time is the cure for our pain.

Swinging my legs over the edge of the bed I rest my elbows on my knees and give my face a quick rub with my hands. I need to get out of here before I screw anything else up. Before I leave I put my head against the door separating me and Beth. I hear the water running and that’s it.

Almost to the exit and I hear glass shattering from behind me but its muffled. I know it’s behind the door Beth is in and I start to panic.

“Beth” I knock and turn the handle at the same time but it doesn’t move. “Beth. Open up are you alright?”

The crying is back and my gut tightens.

“Maggie! Hershel!” I’m screaming now but no one answers. Only Lori stands in the doorway few seconds later.

“What’s going on?”

“Beth’s in there and I heard glass.”

My hand is pounding on the door and I can feel the sting but it doesn’t matter. I need to know Beth is okay. Lori puts her hand on my shoulder and pushes me back, its then that I see she has a fireplace poker and is using it to pry the door open. I don’t think I’m breathing, all I can do is pray that Beth hasn’t done something stupid.

The sound of wood splintering followed by a metallic clink precedes the door opening. At first I’m relived because Beth is standing facing a broken mirror and my first thought was that she might have punched it out of anger but then she turns around. Grasping her wrist as blood pools around her fingers and drips to the floor.

Lori runs out the door shouting for Patricia and I’m frozen in place.

“I’m sorry.” She says between sobs.

I start crying and bring her into my arms. I know she will be fine there isn’t enough blood to indicate she did any real damage but I need to physically know she is alright.

“I don’t want to move on. I don’t want to forget them. I can’t lose anyone else.” She’s rambling one short sentence after the next. Her voice is barely audible as it’s muffled into my shirt. All I can say is “I know. It’ll be okay."

* * *

* * *

 

Beth is being bandaged up and is with her family and I’m standing here feeling like an outsider. Hershel’s hands are shaking, which is something I’ve never seen from him before. He was always calm and collected but I guess having your daughter intentionally slice into her arm with a piece of broken glass will shake anymore to the core.

With a quick kiss to the white gauze now wrapped around her wrist he stands up and walks out, but not before patting my shoulder. Beth starts a new round of crying this time with Maggie joining her and I know I’m intruding on this intimate moment.

The rest of the house is eerily quiet and when I step out on the porch I’m disappointed to see the sun is sunken below the horizon. It’s the first sunset I’ve missed since everything has gone to hell and I feel a little empty not having the satisfaction of witnessing one of God’s last miracles. I need to take them when I can because I’m pretty sure they are going to be few and far between here on out. 

The glow from Daryl’s fire is like a beacon calling me. I wait for the uncertainty to kick in but it never does. If he didn’t want me there he would say it. He wasn’t the type to spare someone’s feelings.

 

**Daryl’s POV**

I wasn’t sure she was going to come back. Then I heard her.

I could hear humming before I heard her steps. The noises alone told me that she had a beautiful voice and I hated that she stopped when she got closer.

I made it seem like all of my attention was on cleaning a few squirrels as she sat down across from me. The sleeves of my shirt that she was wearing were hanging down over her hands making her look like a child playing dress up. The pile of hair on her head didn’t help repel the image.

After she got sick again in the woods earlier, I became concerned that she isn’t doing well. which is why I am in search of Hershel while she's back at the house. I told the old man that I didn’t think she was sleeping and everything she ate seemed to come right back up. The only advice he gave me was to keep an eye on her, apparently the human body will make sure that her and the baby get everything they need. I don’t know how that is possible but I’m not the doctor.

“You eat?” I ask and she shakes her head. I wanted to yell at her about taking better care of herself but instead I grab one of the squirrels and a stick. Roasted squirrel is better than nothing.

* * *

* * *

 

The look on her face was part shock and part disgust when she saw the little eyes of her dinner looking back at her.

“I’m not hungry.”

“Eat it.” It was a command and earned me the first sign of spunk from her. I raised an eyebrow at the glare she gave me and then frowned when she uttered an apology. She didn’t need to apologize.

Hesitantly she picked at the meat with her fingers and brought a small piece to her lips. I know most people wouldn’t think of eating squirrel meat but it was my main diet when I was younger. When dad was out on a bender and Merle was off I had to fend for myself and the woods of Georgia are overrun with the tree rats.

She seems surprised that the meat isn’t as repulsive as she thought it would be and eats another piece. Satisfied that she is eating I go back to cleaning my knife.

“Who taught you to track?”

I think about ignoring her question but she is probably trying to distract herself from the idea that she is eating a cute fluffy animal.

I light a cigarette and take a long drawl before I answer, “Brother.”

“Oh, sorry.” She goes back to eating and looking at the fire but I don’t like that she felt she needed to apologize again.

“When our dad was in a bad mood Merle would take me out and show what he knew.” I leave out the part where we were out in the woods all the time. Dad was in a bad mood when he was liquored up. Which made it hard to be around him since being drunk was a constant state for him. Merle saved my life on more than one occasion.

“It’s okay we don’t have to talk. Sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”

“Stop apologizing.” I snap and regret it when she flinches. I’m no good at this. I don’t know how to handle people with kid gloves and I feel like that is what she needs.

She sighs and goes back to eating, but the bites are smaller and I think she is just going through the motions. Only eating to make me happy. As a rule, I make it a point to keep a distance from people. Less disappointment can happen on either side if you keep space between you. But I find myself breaking another one of my rules and ask, “Do you sing?”

She seems as shocked as I am that I asked the question but shakes her head again, “No. My sister and Beth were the singers. I preferred the piano and guitar. You-you should hear Beth sing she’s beautiful.”

The last of her sentence was said in a whisper and I watched as her face went back to the hardened mask she has been wearing for a while. Then she yawns and sets the remainder of the squirrel next to her. She is running on fumes, has been for days and it’s starting to catch up to her.

“You’re taking the tent tonight.”

“No- it’s yours. I’ll be fine ou-“

“Just get in the damn tent. You look like shit.”

Her mouth opens like she is going to argue but I think the look I give her shuts her up. I didn’t think you could audibly stomp on dirt but she manages and I’m pretty sure I heard her mumble, “You don’t look that great either bub”, as she violently shoves the flap of the tent open. I can't help but smirk at her. This is the first real spark of life I’ve seen in her. It just good to see she isn't completely broken.   

**Mel’s POV**

_“Mel.” I hear the broken scream but I can’t find her. I need to make sure she is okay. My head won’t turn no matter how hard I try I can’t get to her. Then like every time the nightmares get this far my sisters face comes out of the darkness, but something isn’t right with her. The tears and pain in her eyes shouldn’t be there._

_Her hand is grasping for mine but I can’t reach her. My own arm feels like it is burning from the efforts._

_“Just look at me. It’ll be okay.” My voice no longer sounds like my own and my throat is burning from trying to suppress my own cries. I have to be strong for her but I know we won’t be okay. Someone else is screaming and I recognize without seeing him that it’s my dad. That is what pushes me over the edge and I can no longer stop the tears from falling._

_A new pressure lands on my throat forcing my head away from my sister and into the eyes of the monster above me._

There are hands on me and I claw at them trying to get them off of me. I have to get to my sister.

“Shit.”

That one simple word has me pausing. I know that voice but I don’t want to open my eyes and see that he isn’t really there. My cheeks are wet and I my chest is trying to draw in enough air but I still feel like it’s not enough.

The fog starts to lift and I’m aware that there are hands holding my arms still. They are most definitely real and when I open my eyes I see Daryl looking at me with concern. I also see a scratch on his cheek with a small amount of blood surging to the surface.

“Oh my god.” I gasp and cover my mouth “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to. I- I didn’t know.”

“I’m fine. You okay?”

Why is he asking about me? I just mauled his face. All because of that one nightmare that won’t let me forget what happened. I knew it was only a matter of time before it resurfaced. Which is why I have been avoiding sleep. I close my eyes hoping to clear my head but I see my sisters face and snap them back open. Why is it that I never remember my dreams? Not the good ones anyways. It’s the nightmares that leave their haunting images behind in my head.

Speaking is no longer an option so I nod. His grip loosens slightly like he is afraid I’ll hurt him or myself if he fully releases me. I’m okay but there is no way I will be getting back to sleep. His touch lingers on my skin like a balm when he finally let’s go of my arms and stands. The top of the tent preventing him from standing to his full height.

I want to call out to him when he walks out but that’s too pathetic. It looks like it’s going to be a long night. I have no clue what time it is but I know it’s pitch black outside and I can tell the glow from the fire is even more dim. Laying back I rest my head on the lame excuse of a pillow sewn into the sleeping bag and lay my hands in front of me. Before the images of my dream start to force their way into my thoughts, I start to move my fingers like they are playing a piano. If I concentrate hard enough I can feel the smoothness of the keys under my fingertips. I can hear the notes like I am actually playing them. I’ve done this since I was a child first taking lessons and it’s a habit I haven’t been able to break.

The sound of fabric moving makes me sit up again and I see Daryl coming back into the tent. He is carrying something in his hands and passes them off to me. A lantern and a worn paperback book. I want to protest and tell him that we need to save the batteries but the fact that he knows I need a distraction makes me smile.

I look up to tell him thank you but he is about to leave the tent for the second time tonight.

“Wait.” He stops and turns around waiting for me to finish but I’m suddenly unsure what I was going to say, “I uh- I can read it aloud if you want.”

What? There is no reasoning why I just said that. I’m only confident that I don’t want to be alone right now. I can’t look at him so I direct my gaze downward and watch as my hand rubs the front cover of the book, tracing the bold lettering on the front.

I’m certainly surprised when he turns around and lays on the spot where his sleeping bag used to be. His arm behind his head and he gives me a quick nod letting me know to start reading.

I turn the lantern on and open the cover of the book, _A Painted House_ by John Grisham. I’ve never heard of it but then again I thought Grisham did crime novels and the cover doesn't look like one. Without looking up again I start to read and find that I’m not as uncomfortable as I thought I would be. I would read aloud to people all the time before, at the nursing home, in church, even at home when daddy would ask me to. Falling into the flow of the words makes me forget I’m in a tent trying to distract myself and it isn't long before I am completely engrossed in the story. That’s the nice thing about stories though, you can live someone else’s life for a while and forget about your own.


	4. Keep Me In Your Heart

**Chapter 4**

**Mel's POV**

“Is it hard?” I ask as Daryl walks over to a tree and pulls the arrow out of the squirrel he just pinned. He turns and looks at me with his left eyebrow raised slightly. I quickly realize what I said and I can feel the heat rise in my cheeks. I end up stuttering a few times as I try to elaborate on what I was asking, “Shooting the crossbow I mean? I know how to shoot a rifle but that’s about it.”

“Ain’t easy.”

“Can you show me how sometime? If that’s alright.”

After all the time we have spent together I have become accustomed to his mannerisms and I don’t even flinch when he spits on the ground while handing me the limp body of the squirrel. I put it in my shoulder bag. Adding to the growing pile. He could probably make a coat out of all the squirrel skins he has been collecting.

“We should start heading back now. Told Hershel I’d help him with something.” My face drops a little bit when he doesn’t answer my question and I start to worry that I might have crossed a line. We don’t really talk much so I don’t know what exactly our boundaries are. I don’t actually think we’ve carried on a real two-sided conversation with each other. Which is weird because I feel like he is the only person that really understands me.

He starts to head back and I immediately fall in line behind him. I concentrate on placing my feet in the same spots he does. His steps are silent and while mine are quiet it still sounds like Bigfoot is making his way through the woods each time I move. Completely disrupting the serenity of the forest.

My thoughts continue down another line of thinking and a noise that is somewhere between a laugh and a release of breath escapes me.

“What’s so funny?” Daryl asks without turning around.

“It’s just I was thinking – never mind it’s stupid.”

“What?”

I’m tempted to lie and say I was thinking about a joke I heard once but then he might ask to hear the joke. Then I would be embarrassed because all the jokes I know were learned in third grade. So, even though he will probably think it’s ridiculous I tell him, “I was just thinking about what it would be like to run into Bigfoot out here in the woods.”

The reaction is pretty much what I thought it would be.

Silence.

Then he clears his throat before he surprises me, “You ever heard of a Chupacabra?”

_Not what I was expecting but okay_ , “Yeah I remember my teacher talking about it in Spanish class. It’s a creature that sucks the blood of goats or something, right?”

I can see the back of his head nod in agreement and I almost run into him when he abruptly stops walking. I stand next to him and use the opportunity to take a drink from the canteen Daryl gave me. He pulls out an almost empty pack of cigarettes and lights one.

After a deep inhale, he starts talking again and a cloud of smoke exhales when he does. “I saw one once.”

“A Chupacabra?”

“Yeah.” Another draw from the cigarette. “I was squirrel hunting couple of years back. North Georgia, where I’m from and I heard something big coming through the trees. I had my bow raised and it was in my sights. Was an ugly son of a bitch.”

He isn’t making eye contact with me but I don’t think he is joking.

“Were you scared? Did you shoot it?”

“Damn near pissed my pants but I figured I was bigger than a goat.” After one last draw, he throws the cigarette on the ground and stomps on it.

“You’re braver than me. I wouldn’t have stepped foot in the woods again.” I bring the bottle to my lips again but stop halfway when I see Daryl watching me. His eyes look like they are scrutinizing me. I have the sudden urge to crawl into myself but that reaction might just be from the permanent scowl on his face. “What?”

“You believe me?”

“Yeah. Why wouldn’t I? You haven’t given me a reason not to trust you and honestly, I didn’t think dead people could get up, walk around, and eat the living. Plus, did you know scientist discover over 15,000 new species a year? Granted most of those are insects but who’s to say…” I stop when I realize I am jabbering on and he is just staring at me. “Sorry. I watch a lot of animal planet or watch ** _ed_** a lot of animal planet.”

He shakes his head and adjusts the crossbow on his back. “C’mon”, he mutters then starts walking again.

I stare at his back as we finish making our way toward to the farm. I try to get a read on him but I come up with nothing.  Not that I was ever good at reading people but I honestly have no clue what he is thinking or what he is going to do. Everything is a surprise when it comes to Daryl.

“Tomorrow I’ll show you how to use the crossbow.”

See? Surprises.

* * *

* * *

 

My chest tightens as I stand in the doorway of Beth’s room. Maggie is lying in bed with Beth tucked close to her side while she reads from a well-loved picture book. The scene before me makes me wonder if this is how my sister and I looked when we were younger.

Harmony’s favorite book was, _The Velveteen Rabbit_. Every night for months she would beg me to read that book. After a while I hated having to read the same thing over and over until one day I hid it. Tucked it deep in the linen closet on the top shelf behind the “good” table cloth. Somewhere Harmony couldn’t reach it and no would think to look.

Now, watching Maggie sweep Beth’s hair off of her forehead, I want to take back what I did. I want to read that book to her as many nights as I’m allowed. I haven’t thought about that storybook for years. It only took about a week of Harmony searching for it before she moved on to another favorite bedtime story. Still, the regret I start to feel over that is fresh. Like it happened yesterday. It was something simple. Something that made my sister happy and only took a few minutes of my time.

Without saying anything I quietly turn around and leave. Maggie and Beth are lucky; they still have each other and I wasn’t going to take away a second of their time together.

I need to keep my mind off of past memories before they continue to take over and I give into the same darkness that keeps me awake. It’s like looking at a photo album with your grandmother. Each picture has a story, each story has another story, until eventually the original photograph you were looking at is forgotten and you are swept up in her walk down memory lane. I can’t let myself think about what I have lost. Not yet anyway.

There will probably come a day when I can think about my sister without seeing her face with the unfamiliar look of despair etched on it. Hopefully that day is soon because every precious memory I try to recall of her and my father eventually transforms to that night.

“Want to lend a hand?” Carol startles me out of my thoughts and I find that I’m standing in the kitchen. I don’t remember getting here. She is rolling some kind of dough and smiling at me as she waits for my response.

I try to hide the shaking in my hands and I plaster a (hopefully convincing) return smile on my face.

“Uh Yeah. Let me just wash my hands.” I have to roll up the sleeves of Daryl’s shirt since they hang off of me. It would probably be easier to remove the shirt but then I would have to take off his vest and I don’t want to do that. “What do you want me to do?” I ask as I dry my hands on an old dish towel.

“If you could stir the pasta, that’d be great.”

It seemed a simple enough task. It would be hard for me to mess that up, so I grabbed a wooden spoon. The sound of boiling water is the only noise in the kitchen. Unlike in the woods where I enjoy the lack of noise this quiet is unsettling. It almost feels like the universe is building up to something bigger and the water on the stove is the dramatic soundtrack. I stop stirring and instead watch as the bubbles come to the surface before popping, only to have more take their place.

It looks like the water is about to boil over when a hand lands on my shoulder. I jump, my wrist catching the rim of the pot and a flash of pain radiates from the spot. I hiss at the pain as my other hand grasps my burnt wrist.

“Let me see.” Carols’ hand reaches out but I cradle my arm to my chest in an attempt to stop her from touching me. Her own hand drops to her side and she stops moving toward me. “If it’s alright Mel I’d like to see.”

I look at her. Unlike Daryl, I can get some sort of read on her and I see an understanding expression on her face. The first thought that comes to my head is that she was probably a great mother. She just had that motherly look to her. Slowly I show her my wrist. The ache has dulled slightly but the reminder is still there. She smiles at me, highlighting the small lines around her eyes and at the corners of her mouth, as she looks at the reddened skin.

“I’m fine, just zoned out for a second. I’m really no good in the kitchen.” My voice sounded more strangled then I intended.

“Tell you what. I’ll have Lori come in here to make sure the kitchen doesn’t burn down and why don’t you and I go ask Dale for some Aloe. It’ll take care of that sting.”

“Really I’m fine. I –I don’t want to bother anyone.”

She waves her hand. Dismissing what I said. “Nonsense. Dale will be happy somebody needs something out of that over packed first aid kit of his. It’ll make him feel useful.”

“Sure.” I said.

I wasn’t sure why I did. My wrist was fine; it was really nothing serious. But I also found myself wanting to make Carol happy. It is probably because I know she is still hurting from the loss of Sophia. Maybe she still has that maternal instinct and wanting to help me is how she deals with it. She does insist on feeding everyone.

It doesn’t take long for her to lead me out of the house and toward their small camp. When I see it from the hill it always seemed to be an epicenter for them. Now, there was no one around. Glen was helping Hershel clean out the stables. Lori and Carl took our places in the kitchen. T-Dog and Daryl were mending a fence. The only person I saw was Andrea, and she was perched in a chair on top of the R.V. A rifle by her side. I knew Rick and Shane left earlier this morning. Daryl said something about them taking that guy they brought back a couple of days ago away from the farm. I’m not really involved with anything that goes on here so I have no opinion in the matter but it felt wrong to leave an injured guy all alone.

Carol knocked on the open door of the older R.V. and I heard a confident voice respond, “Come in.”

She smiled at me again. Probably making sure I hadn’t turned around and run away yet, which I was tempted to do. Then she disappeared into the vehicle.

I search for Daryl. It’s a habit I have recently developed when I’m not sure what to do. I can see him out in the pasture. He is a good distance away but now that I know he is near I feel a little better about going into this very confined space with a stranger. I’m pretty confident that he wouldn’t stick around if these people were terrible human beings.

I’m still watching him as I finish working up the courage to climb up the three stairs after Carol, when he stops hammering. I am not certain but I think he is looking at me. Which is ridiculous, as far as he knows I am still in the house talking to Beth like I told him I was going to do. Shaking my head to clear my thoughts I take one last deep breath and go inside.

This is the first R.V. I have been in and I’m surprised by how much room there is inside and how homey it feels. Carol and Dale are sitting at a small table with an open first aid kit in front of them. It seems that Dale stockpiled bandages and band-aids. Both of them stop their quiet conversation when they see me standing at the door.

“Well it’s not every day I’m graced with the company of two beautiful women. I just wish you didn’t have to tangle with fire in order to be here Mel. Why don’t you take a seat?”

I blush a little at his compliment about my appearance. If it was anyone else, I would probably take it as flirting but I know he doesn’t mean anything by it. I had a lot of older customers at the restaurant I worked at part-time that would call me gorgeous, doll, honey, and any other pet name you can think of. It was harmless and they never meant anything by it. They were just from a different time so I know Dale doesn’t mean anything either.

I take the seat he left and sit across from Carol. She immediately gets to work and applies a small amount of aloe to the inside of my wrist. The cool gel instantly relieves the burning sensation and I find my shoulders relaxing.

My eyes stay on Dale since, in my head, he is the bigger threat. He is no longer paying us any attention and has moved on to searching the cabinets above the couch. The only time I have spoken to him was to say the occasional hello but he has always been very pleasant to me. In fact, he reminds me a lot of my grandfather. He even wears the same goofy hat that my Pop-Pop did.

“Ah ha.” He shouts. When he turns around he is holding something shiny in his hand. “I have been saving this for a special occasion and I think today is the day.”

The silver wrapper pulls back and my mouth starts to water. Chocolate. He breaks the bar in half and gives one side to Carol. Then he lays the other half in front of me. I want to shove the whole thing in my mouth but I stop myself.

“Thank you but I can’t take this.” I push the milk chocolate back toward him.

“You’re not taking it. I’m giving it to you.” His smile never leaves his face and I have to admit it is contagious. He pushes it back. “It’ll make this old man happy.”

Carol finishes wrapping my wrist in gauze then pats my hand. Dale has already sat down on the couch and is reading a book. I take the chocolate and wrap it back in the foil he left it sitting on. It is a simple gesture, giving me something like that but it means a lot to me. I am starting to see that these people, that I have tried to distance myself from, are not out to take whatever they can from others. Most of them have been caring toward me.

“Thank you Carol.” I say as I stand up and slip the chocolate into the pocket of my shirt. “Thank you Dale.”

I don’t wait for them to respond before I make a hasty retreat out the door. I hope they understand I’m not trying to be rude. I just don’t know how I will react and I’m afraid I might break down and cry if someone offers me anymore kindness.

I quickly wipe my sleeve over across my eyes. _Stupid tears._

_It’s hormones, right? That’s the reason I am so emotional over chocolate. Yep, that has to be it._

I have only made it about ten feet away from the R.V. when I stop. I’m just standing, lost and not sure where I should go. I see Andrea briefly acknowledge me with a nod then she turns her eyes back toward the woods. Hershel is scooping feed into a bucket near the chicken coop and I head his way. It’s probably time that I start helping out more. Daryl’s vest on my back is a comforting weight and a reminder that I’m not alone.

_“Your pity party is officially over_.” I tell myself as I roll the sleeves of the flannel shirt back down to cover the white bandage. It’s a stark contrast to my skin. Which thanks to my time in the woods has a nice sun kissed look to it now.

As I get closer to Hershel, something catches my eye and I head toward the barn. I start to hear frustrated grunts and mumbled curses. I’m not sure what I am witnessing as I stand at the entrance.

“Please Goat help me out a little.” It appears as a last-ditch effort Glen has resorted to pleading with Nancy, the goat. “Let me help you.” Then he kneels down and pulls on the poor animals’ teat. Nancy responds appropriately by trying to get away from his molesting hands.

“First time milking a goat?” I ask.

“That obvious huh?”

My hand runs down Nancy’s neck and start to utter baby talk to her. “It’s okay. Did mean Glen hurt you?” Talking to animals is something I have done since I was a child. Growing up on a farm, sometimes the animals outnumber the people. Plus, who’s to say that they don’t understand me? So what if they can’t respond? I grab a handful of hay and lay it down in front of her. She eagerly starts to eat on the snack.

I take a spot next to Glen and sit down on a milk crate. It is not the most comfortable position but it’s better than trying to hunch over.

During the fall festival, at our church daddy would bring some of our goats out so that the younger kids could try their hand at milking them. For some reason the festival always had a prairie frontier theme. Thanks to volunteering every year, I’ve given this speech more times than I can count.

“First you want to clean out any bacteria that might be built up. Just do a squirt from each teat but don’t let the milk land in the bucket.” I demonstrate what I say “You also don’t want to tug on her. It is more of a pinching and squeezing. Grab a couple of inches up onto her utter and squeeze your thumb and pointer finger together. That will trap the milk. Now just bring your other fingers in like you are making a fist. The pressure will squeeze the milk out.” The sound of milk hitting the metallic pan can be heard.

“You know, you make that look really easy.”

“Do you want to try now?” I ask Glen who is still watching my hands. He nods then takes my spot when I stand up. His first attempt only yielded a few drops of milk. “Make sure you keep your thumb and finger tight.” I correct him.

After he takes my corrections he manages to get a steady rhythm going and milk is starting to fill up the pan.

“I’m doing it!” I can’t help but smile at the excitement in his voice. “Hey Daryl. I’m milking a goat.”

“Congratulations?” I jump when Daryl’s gravelly voice comes out of nowhere from behind me. When I turn around I see that he has taken the spot I occupied in the doorway. The sun shining behind him silhouettes his outline causing me to squint in order to see his face. I hadn’t heard him approach and I had no clue he was standing behind me. How long has he been there? Someone needed to put a bell on the man. If it wasn’t for the others being able to see him I would think he was a ghost.

I leave Glen to finish up and I walk over to a stall. Since it is getting colder, especially at night, I know Hershel moves the goats and a few other animals into the barn. There is a shovel laying against the wall so I grab it and start to muck out the stall. I forgot how much work goes into running a farm and it doesn’t take long before I start to feel the sweat beading up on my chest.

Somewhere along the line Daryl started to clean the stall next to the one I am working on. The wheelbarrow is full and my stall is clean so I grab some more straw to lay down on the floor. Then I do the same to Daryl’s newly cleaned stall while he works on the next one. We work in the silence that I have gotten used to as Glen proudly carries his bounty up to the house.

Daryl is finishing stalls before I can finish laying the hay down in the one he just cleaned. Daddy would have loved to have him on the farm. He is like a machine with one goal in mind. When he is done in what has to be record time he helps me finish my job.

The stalls have fresh bedding, and Daryl finally takes a deserved break. He sits down on the milk crate and takes a drink of water. He has done more work than I have but he looks in better shape than I do. He is a lot less sweaty and his face isn’t flushed at all. That tells me that he probably did a lot of physical labor. I put my hand in the pocket of my shirt and I feel the gift I received earlier.

I break off a piece and offer it to Daryl.

“What’s that?” he looks at my hand like it is something poisonous.

“Chocolate.”

“I know what chocolate is. What happened to your arm?” He nods toward the bandage peeking out of my sleeve.

“Oh. It’s nothing. I was helping in the kitchen earlier and burned my wrist. Carol wrapped it up but I think that was a bit overkill.”

He takes the chocolate from my hand and pops it into his mouth. “Should be more careful.” Is said as he chews what I gave him.

I nibble my own piece because I want it to last and because I don’t have a response to Daryl. I know I need to be careful, I am the only one looking out for me now. I don’t have daddy or Harmony to run to anymore and someday I probably won’t have Carol or Daryl. I’m slowly coming to terms that this is just how the world is now.

“So, what new and inventive way are you going to serve up squirrel tonight?” The lighthearted comment is meant to break the severity of my own thoughts. Daryl starts to stand up and I know he is planning to take the wheelbarrow outside. “You know I think I might want to cook tonigh—“

“No.” Daryl cuts me off and gives me a serious look as he walks past me.

I’m left standing with my mouth open. Did he just try to make a joke or should I be offended?

* * *

* * *

 

Maybe I am just use to spending my day out in the woods with no one but Daryl, but before the sun even starts to set I am exhausted. Trying to socialize and keep my own sanity at the same time is a lot of work.

Right now, with just Beth and Maggie sitting on the porch with me I’m fine. They were people I knew before and I can almost pretend that in this moment we are at a barbeque Hershel is throwing to celebrate the last few days of decent weather. The sound of a car speeding up the dirt road quickly breaks the false reality I am trying to imagine.

I know it is the vehicle Rick and Shane took earlier in the day for their task that no one wants to talk about. Because everyone knows sending a man alone and injured is sentencing that man to death. Nobody wants to have blood on their hands so everyone is willing to pretend it wasn’t happening.

Blissful ignorance is what my grandmother would call it.

The group is already gathering closer to the house as they silently wait for the unspoken confirmation. The car makes a sudden stop near the porch and I watch as Shane gets out of the passenger side. I sit up a little straighter when the door is slammed behind him. Like everyone else I immediately notice the dried blood on his clothes and several cuts on his face. Not to mention his already blackening right eye. I’ll admit I’m curious what happened especially when I see Rick. He is looking just as bad as his friend. Maybe worse.

“What the hell happened?” Lori runs to her husband and looks over his injuries. My eyes stay on Shane because I trust him about as much as my skills in the kitchen. His hands clench into fists by his side before he jerks his gaze away from the reunited couple. Then he stalks to the back of the car and opens up the trunk. I watch as Rick tries to stop him but Shane ignores him and is already dragging a third person out from the small space. 

I cringe when everyone starts to ask questions at the same time and the sounds start to compete with each other. The unknown man is limp and I know the only reason he is still vertical is because Shane is holding him up. His hands are tied behind his back and a bag is covering his head just like last time.

“Everyone please.” Rick is trying to regain control of the situation but his calm voice is lost in the cacophony.

A shrill whistle shuts everyone up. It sounds just like what my daddy would do when he wanted us to come in from outside. The two fingers in the mouth trick. A technique that I never mastered. Daryl is leaning against the railing and nods for Rick to continue.

“We ran into trouble on the road. We are alright but we need a couple of days to figure out how to go about dealing with Randall.”

I guess the third person is named Randall. Shane is shaking his head at everything Rick is saying and I am able to put two and two together. Clearly the trouble on the road was with each other. Both men have broken skin on their knuckles and Shane still has that dark look of veiled hatred in his eyes as he watches Rick talk.

Randall starts to show signs of consciousness and Shane lets go of him. Still not fully awake Randall falls to the ground and lands on his side. He doesn’t attempt to get up but I can hear a muffled sound of pain come from him.

“He will stay in the shed just like he has been. Same rules apply. No one go nears him.”

“Do we treat him like our prisoner or something?” Dale asks.

I watch as Rick looks around the people gathered around him until he stops at Shane. I can’t say exactly what emotion passes between them but I do know it isn’t friendly.

“Yes.”

I can’t be the only one who hears Shane scoff at Rick’s one word answer. When I look around I see a lot of indifferent faces. I’m not sure what my own opinion is on the matter. At least with Randall locked away we know he can’t hurt us. Plus, he is actually safer as our prisoner then he is fending for himself so maybe it is a win-win situation.

The group starts to break off into smaller clusters and I can hear some of them already gossiping about what they think might have happened on the road. Lori is trying to persuade Rick to come inside and see Hershel for his injuries. All the while Shane is still trying to burn a hole through Rick’s head with his eyes. Personally, I have had enough socializing and drama today. I feel like I deserve a nice quiet night in the tent away from everyone. Well, almost everyone. Since rediscovering my love for reading I have substituted sleep for the temporary escape that a book brings. I’m almost done reading the Patterson novel but I can’t finish it until Daryl is with me. I figure he has sat through me reading most of the book so he at least deserves to hear the ending.

I see him still leaning against the side of the porch. He is watching Shane and T-Dog as they untie Randall’s legs so that he can walk on his own. I imagine they plan to take him to what is, for the foreseeable future, his new home.

I watch as Shane gets impatient and pulls Randall up by the ropes wrapped around his arms. T-Dog hasn’t finished removing the loose binding from around his legs so when Shane forces him to take that first step he trips over the obstacles. The sudden change makes Shane reach for Randall but he only manages to grab the bag that is hiding his face. As he falls to the ground the covering is pulled off and for the first time I see who he is.

 

**Daryl’s POV**

“Wh-What is he doing here?”

When I turn around I see the girl staring at the kid. Her voice is wobbly and I instantly know something is wrong. A second ago she was fine. Now her arms are wrapped around herself like she is trying to pull my vest closer to her.

“Why?” She turns her green eyes toward me. I can easily read her emotions and right now is no different. They are wide with a mixture of fear and confusion. When I don’t have an answer for her she goes back to staring at Randall. T-Dog has put the bag back over his face but the girl isn’t calming down. “He can’t be here.”

Walking backwards her head keeps going back and forth in an almost violent way.

“He can’t be here!” Now she is screaming and her breathing is coming in wild bursts. When her back hits the house, giving her nowhere else to go, she slides down and buries her head in her knees.

I run up the steps. Stopping when I’m by her side. It’s obvious she is crying but I can’t make out what she is saying. I bend down, putting me at the same level as her.

“He can’t be here. He can’t be here. He can’t be here.” The repetition is strangled between her sobs.

“Get him the hell out of here.” I shout. Everyone is too busy standing around watching the girl have her breakdown. It doesn’t take a damn genius to see that the kid is what set it off. I look at Shane who is staring at the girl. His face is blank until he looks back at the kid still in his grasp. As he pushes Randall toward the shed his eyes go back to the girl a final time. That’s when I see a smirk on his face.

It sets off alarms but I force them into the back of mind as something I’ll have to deal with later.

 “He’s gone sweetie. Let’s get you back inside.” Carol is on her other side and thank God for that. While I am lost trying to figure out what to do she steps up and knows exactly what to say. The girl doesn’t move and shows no acknowledgement that she heard anything Carol has said. “Daryl is going to carry you in. Okay?”

No response.

My hand hesitantly reaches out to her and hovers over her arm before I decide to pull it back. I know she is retreating into herself, the last thing I want to do is startle her into a full-blown panic attack. Hell, by the way she is breathing she might already be having one right now.

I scrub my hand against my face, feeling several days’ worth of growth on my face. It does nothing to ease my own frustration that is building up.

Today was almost normal. The girl and I went hunting in the morning. She surprised me when she said she believed my Chupacabra story. Even Merle dismissed me when I told him my account of what happened. He thought it had something to do with the shrooms I had taken earlier that day before heading out.

Then when we got back to the farm I expected her to spend the rest of the day in the house away from everyone. So, it was another surprise when I saw her in the barn showing Glen how to milk a goat. She was trying to move forward. No longer a walking shell. I had actually seen her smile while she ate the small piece of chocolate she shared.

Yep, today was about as normal as you could ask for these days.

Only to be ruined when the girl saw Randall’s face. A sick feeling comes over me when I think about why she is reacting this way. The only movement she is making is a slight rocking motion. Carol is trying to calm her down but I can see she is also afraid to touch her.

This is getting us nowhere.

“Let’s go.” I say as I stand up. When she doesn’t move, I kick her leg gently with my foot. “Move it. Let’s go.”

She stares up at me with stunning yet broken eyes. I barely resist the urge to go to the shed and beat the hell out of that kid for making her this way. Instead I start down the steps relieved when I hear the now familiar sound of her small footsteps not too far behind me.

 

**Mel’s POV**

As much as I hate the one dream that haunts me, right now I would prefer it to reality. If this was a dream I could wake up. Then after some deep breathing and a few hours I could forget it happened and go about my day. This isn’t a dream. I knew it as soon as I saw his face. It might have been different from the last time I saw it but I would never forget it.

That was the face I had begged and pleaded with. The face that my sister and daddy had asked for help. That was the face that did nothing.

Thinking about that details of that night just drags me back there. I’m still too raw to open myself up to that again. Refusal to let that happen has my feet moving. As fast as I can I run. It’s a futile attempt to carry me away but maybe the more distance I put between myself and that face the better I’ll feel.

I pass Daryl. No longer needing him to lead the way. The tent isn’t that far now and it has the distraction I need.

The damn zipper of the opening gets caught on the tent fabric. They do not make these things easy to get into. What if it was an emergency? What if I was being chased by a bear?

I take a deep breath and force my hands to slow down. Once I hear the zip sound, I waste no time getting inside. Then I grab the book that is still sitting on my sleeping bag.  Opening to where I left a blade of grass as a bookmark I start to read. It’s my last-ditch effort to be anywhere else but here.  So far, my attempts at forgetting have failed.

The Past won’t die.

* * *

* * *

 

Rick seems to be doing most of the talking but I can only hear Daryl’s guttural voice.

“Ain’t I done enough for you people?”

I sit the book down so I can try to make out what Rick is saying. I jump slightly when Daryl’s angry voice comes out of the silence.

“Hell no, and if any of y’all go near her I’ll put you on your ass.”

Night has taken over. Thanks to the glow of the fire I can see the two outlines of the men. They are both similar in height and build but I know that it’s Daryl pacing around and the movements vaguely remind me of a caged animal. I’ve seen him act like this a couple of times but always from a distance and only when he is forced to deal with someone from the group.

He is like me in that we both prefer to stay away from the others. I keep silent and watch. Emotions were not something Daryl wore on his sleeve and aside from anger I hadn’t seen anything else from him. Now he is upset. Guilt rises up inside me because I know it has something to do with me.

More unknown words are said on Rick’s part before he starts back toward the R.V. Daryl kicks the ground then sits down in front of the fire. I haven’t moved from my spot because I didn’t want them to know I was awake. No one has checked in on me and I know that I have Daryl to thank for that. He has been a sentinel for the tent, threatening anyone who tried to get near it.

I’ve calmed down. All it took was convincing myself that Randall couldn’t hurt me. Rick had someone watching the shed at all times and he already spent a week on the farm before I knew who he was. Still, it took a while because my brain mapped out everything that could go wrong. The fact that Daryl has stayed nearby is the main reason my heart slowly started to settle down. My mind seemed to get the memo because the answer for every new scenario was the same.

_What if he gets out?_

_Daryl’s here._

_The others might be looking for him, what happens when they find us?_

_Daryl’s here._

_What happens if… Daryl. Is. Here._

I didn’t want to rely on him but since the day he found me in the woods he has stayed my one constant lifeline. Granted it hasn’t been a long relationship but a part of me thinks that he is strong enough for the both of us. I know it’s a lot to put on one person but everything he does only solidifies my thought.

When I stand, it feels like my legs aren’t able to hold my weight. I wait until my equilibrium seems to return then bend down to open the tent. I don’t miss it when his black form stiffens up at the sound of the zipper parting.

“Suppers ready.” He says as he holds up a stick with a squirrel on it.

Normally I would appreciate the obvious avoidance of my situation. A distraction from my situation which has become the elephant in the room but I hate seeing him upset. I hate even more knowing I am the reason for it.

I take what he offers. The face of the once furry creature looking back at me doesn’t even register anymore. It’s food. I need food to live.

_Yeah but why are you living?_

“What did they want?” I am surprised by how strong my voice is. Especially after the whispered thought I just heard.

“Nothing.”

I could argue with him. Tell him that they obviously want something from me but do I want to push the subject? Do I want to know what he was trying to protect me from? The answer is a simple, no.

So, I change the subject.

“Are we still going to do the crossbow tomorrow?”

“I’ve got something to do in the mornin.”

“Oh. Okay.” I say and I’m proud of the fact that I don’t sound disappointed.

“We can go out after if ya want.”

I did. It made me feel even more uneasy knowing that man was on the farm. I wanted the distraction. I needed the woods.

* * *

* * *

 

_I’ve never been out this far before and I am completely lost. If we just keep moving everything will be alright. We can find someplace to stay. We can find water. We can find food._

_“Do you think we should go this way?” I ask out loud but I’m not really expecting a response. Neither Daddy or Harmony have said a word for three days. I had joined them in the silence on the first two days, allowing myself time to process what had happened. But I knew that we couldn’t sit around anymore. It wasn’t safe._

_Plus, I was going to go insane if we didn’t start moving. Everywhere I looked was a stark reminder of what the world had become and how dark the souls of men could be._

_Afterward daddy just cried. Each sob pushing me closer to the edge of my own sanity. I had never seen him breakdown. Not once in my life. He was the rock of the family. He was always there to wipe our tears. Even now I wanted to turn to him for what to do next but I knew he was just as lost as I was._

_Not being able to take anymore, I held Harmony closer to me as I pulled both of us to our feet. Harmony was no longer crying but she wasn’t herself either. Gone was the vitality in her eyes, only a dull shine left behind. She still had the same look now._

_After a day of walking everywhere I turned looked the same. Trees, Trees, and Trees. Shouldn’t we have found a house or road by now? I had no clue that Georgia still had so much uninhabited land. Then again, I could be leading us around in one big circle._

_The sun is starting to set and all we have is a tent. We need to find someplace to stay. I walk over to daddy who is several feet behind us._

_“Which way do we go?”_

_His eyes stay downcast. He hasn’t looked at us since the incident. Grabbing his face, I force him to meet my gaze._

_“We need you.” I plead with him but his response is to pull away, drop to his knees, and start crying again._

_I want to shout at him. Ask him, what he has to cry about? He didn’t have to suffer through the acts of those sick men. I didn’t blame him before but Harmony and I need him now. We need our rock. The building anger that I have no way to get rid of has my hands curled into fists. I am about to tell him how I feel but then I remember his screams from that night. How he tried to get to us but the gun pointed at his head stopped his efforts. I remember how they made him watch. I remember how he begged for them to let us go._

_I shake my head to dislodge the memories and see Harmony is still standing where I left her. Every step she takes is because I’m dragging her. I can’t do this on my own. I’m so lost and I don’t just mean directionally either. Sorrow pushes the anger out of my fists and I take a deep breath._

_“I’m sorry daddy. I’ll set up the tent here tonight. It’ll be better in the morning.”_

_It couldn’t get much worse._

_That night I hold Harmony as her body shudders from her silent sobs._

_“Why us Mel?”_

_It’s the first time she has spoken since she became the living doll I’ve been dragging around. I wish I did but I don’t have an answer for her because I honestly had no clue. I settle on what daddy often talked about during his service._

_“God doesn’t give us more than we can handle. We will get through this.”_

_“There is no God.” She spat and my hand stills on her back. She is the most devoted person I know. I’d often find her giving daddy pep talks or quoting scripture at him. “I’m not made for this world Mel.”_

I wake up sweating despite the cool air touching my skin. Looking around in the dark I relax when I see Daryl’s sleeping form on the other side of the tent. I don’t remember falling asleep but I know I’ve been exhausted lately. So maybe my body just shut down on its own.

Still unsettled by the dream I know it will be a while before I can go back to sleep. Reading is out because I don’t want to wake Daryl and there is no way in hell I am going outside the safety of the tent right now. Under the light of the sun I would have no problem going for a walk but nighttime has a habit of making everything scarier. The last thing I need is to have a heart attack because I mistake a dead tree for Daryl’s chupacabra.  

Laying my head back down I start to play the imaginary piano that calms me when I’m stressed. Normally I would just make my finger go over scales but I want something that keeps my mind busy. Fingertips tapping a song that only I can hear, I close my eyes and imagine the sleek fabric of the sleeping bag is actually the hard keys of a piano.

The song I choose matches the mood I woke up in and it isn’t long before I quietly start to sing along to the silent notes.

_“_ _Shadows are fallin' and I'm runnin' out of breath. Keep me in your heart for a while. If I leave you it doesn't mean I love you any less. Keep me in your heart for a while.”_

I’m unable to give the song what it deserves. Warren Zevon wrote it when he found out he was dying. It was his way of saying goodbye.

_“Hold me in your thoughts. Take me to your dreams. Touch me as I fall into view. When the winter comes Keep the fires lit And I will be right next to you.”_

I’m forced to stop playing the notes in order to wipe the tears off my face.

Jesus, I’m a broken mess. I’ve done my best to avoid everything and just when I think it is working something happens and I fall apart all over again. Each time worse than the last. I keep telling myself to get over it but nothing is that simple. Rage and sorrow are in a constant battle inside me, neither of them willing to tap out. It’s to the point that I’m starting to question my own mental state.

It’s only going to get worse when I start to show. Carrying around a physical reminder of what happened to me. Then having to care for it. How am I supposed to deal with this on my own?

 

**Daryl’s POV**

The anger I felt last night, as I listened to the girl trying to quietly endure whatever she was going through, is what brings my fist up another time. The only noise in the barn is the kid breathing heavy and the quick sound of my fist connecting with his face.

Another punch followed by a sickening crack. His bound arms make it impossible for him to block the blows landing on his face.

I barely register the burning pain in my fist after I bring it down on his face again. This time the chair he is tied to falls over and he spits out a mouthful of blood.

Beating up on some kid wasn’t my normal thing but I can see where Rick is coming from. The group needs to be protected. The thought had crossed my mind to let the sheriff deal with the problem he created by bringing the asshole back to the farm in the first place but Rick was a good guy. I knew what they all thought of me. To them I was nothing more than some white trash thug who would have no problem roughing up someone for answers.

God forbid any of them get their own hands dirty.

The only reason I agreed to do this was to keep them away from the girl. They want answers and an interrogation is the last thing she needs right now. She hasn’t had a damn moment to catch her breath since I’ve known her. Finding out about being pregnant after what she went through was enough to push the strongest person over the edge. She was still standing and I wanted to keep it that way.

Anger rises to a new level when I think about her reaction when she saw this piece of shit and what it could mean.

The thud of skin on skin contact sounds out and I have to shake my hand to dull the ache.

“I told you-“

“You ain’t told me shit!” I grab him and slam his head against the wall.

“I hardly knew those guys. I met them on the road.” His nose is making a whistling noise and I know I’ve  broken it.

“How many in your group?”

He hesitates to answer but I’m not going to let him take a break. Pain is the only advantage I have. I take out the knife the girl was carrying and make a show of bringing it around so his eyes are forced to follow it. I want to see if recognition sets in but all I see is terror filling his face.

“NO. Come on man. Don’t do this. Please.”

I move further into his personal space, glaring at him. Then I slam the knife down beside his leg. He jumps as it buries itself in the wooden floor.

“HOW MANY?”

“30. 30 Guys.”

“Where?”

“Uh-“ I rip off the bandage on his leg and listen to him scream at the pain. “I don’t know I swear. We were never any place more than a night.”

Pressing the tip of the blade into his healing wound I continue questioning, “Scouting? Plan on staying local?”

“I don’t know. They left me behind.”

“You ever pick off a scab—“

“Come on man I’m trying to cooperate.”

“—Start real slow at first.” The tip cuts a few of the stitches as I push it further into his skin “Sooner or later you just gotta rip it off.”

“Okay! Okay.” I ease up on the pressure so he will keep talking. “They have weapons. Heavy stuff. Automatics. I didn’t do anything.”

“Your boys shot at my boys. Tried to take this farm. You just went along for the ride? You tryin to tell me your innocent?”

“Yes! These people took me in. Not just guys a-a-a whole group of ‘em. Men and women. Kids too. Just like you people.” I stand up. Listening as he continues to talk. “Thought I might have a better chance with them you know? But we go out, scavenge. Just the men. One night we -we found this little campsite. A man and his two daughters. Teenagers ya know? Real young. Real cute.”

At his words my knuckles turn white as I grip the knife tighter. At the same time my stomach drops as I replay his words in my head. The girl had said she was in the woods with her father and sister. She looked young. I stop moving and turn to face the kid who is still talking. He is oblivious to how close he is to death right now.

“The dad had to watch as these guys they…and they didn’t even kill him afterwards. They just -they just made him watch his daughters. Ju-just left them there. Bu-But I didn’t touch those girls. No I swear, I didn’t touch thos-“

Something snaps inside me. I knew there was a reason she was terrified of him. I had an idea of what happened to her but hearing it out loud makes me want blood on her behalf.

Kicking his injured leg, I almost gain a sick pleasure out of hearing his screams.

“Please-Please. You gotta believe me. I’m not like that. I ain’t like that! Please ya gotta believe me. Please.”

I think about the girl holding the knife to her stomach. How hopeless she looked. I see the fear she feels anytime someone comes near her. I think about the rare times she smiles and how it’s a small glimpse of the life she once enjoyed. 

_Did she beg him to stop?_

I kick him until his wound reopens and then I take out the anger I’m still feeling on his face. The sound of bone cracking vibrates around the room.

My knuckles are raw and bloody by the time I stop myself. My breathing is labored and sweat rolls down my face. It takes everything in me to physically stop hitting him while he’s still alive. I walk over to the corner to try and get my shit together.

I’ve always looked up to Merle but I’ve never wanted to be him. Our daddy ran deep inside my brother at times. Usually showing itself in barfights that he would start over something stupid. I realized that my older brother reveled in other people suffering. Maybe it was because of our shitty childhood and how we were always put down. Maybe that’s why Merle liked to feel superior to others. Hell, maybe he just liked beating on people. I never asked.

That isn't me.

I’ve already crossed my own personal line by doing what I just did. I hate that I want to keep going. I hate knowing that I wouldn’t lose any sleep tonight if he died. People who preyed on others who were weaker than them made me sick. I am by no means a good person but I’ve spent my life trying to stay out of my father’s shadow.


	5. Crispy Bacon

**Chapter 5**

**Daryl’s POV**

It took me a while to get my shit straight after I left the kid unconscious but still breathing on the floor. The first thing I did after leaving the barn was go to the well pump and use the water to clean off the sweat, blood, and any other evidence that could be washed off from my time in the barn. They all probably thought I was a savage but I didn’t want to look like one. Plus, Rick’s kid and the girl didn’t need to know what just went on.  There is no benefit to either of them knowing and to be honest I didn’t want the girl to look at me and see what I was really like. Not that this was me but it’s what everyone else saw.

Rick was waiting for me to tell him everything I found out and I wanted to get it over with. The sooner I tell him the sooner I can get the hell away from here. I need to get to the woods and clear my head. Distract myself from everything that’s bouncing around in there.

My eyes are drawn to the hill where a lone tent stands. The girl needs the same thing as me.

I can’t help but scoff as I approach the R.V. and their small campsite. Coffee and bacon. They are actually eating bacon and sipping on coffee while I do things too delicate for their sensibilities.

I don’t bother with pleasantries and decide to go right into it, “Boy there got a gang. 30 men. They got heavy artillery and they ain’t lookin to make friends. They roll through here…our boys are dead. Our women are gonna wish they were.”

Shane is the first to speak up, “It’s settled then Rick. We can’t keep him here.”

“We have no choice” Rick announces to the group “He’s a threat. We have to eliminate the threat.”

“You’re just gonna kill him?” Dale’s voice breaks the silence.

I grab a piece of unoffered bacon from the pan. I could care less what they decide to do.

“It’s settled. I’ll do it today.”

“Rick. You can’t do this. You don’t want to do this. I know you don’t.”

“What do you suggest Dale?” Shane asks “You heard what Daryl said. You saw how that girl reacted. Why do you think that is? I don’t want him anywhere around our people. We shouldn’t have brought him here to begin with.”

“Do we know for sure that he had anything to do with Mel?” My back stiffens at the sound of her name being said. She wasn’t supposed to be brought into this shit show.

Rick looks at me and a single nod is the only confirmation I am willing to give.

“Do you know what it is called when you decide on your own to take someone’s life? It’s murder Rick. I don’t peg you for a murderer.”

“Does anyone have a problem with what I’ve said?” Rick asks and suddenly the group is silent standing around him. I can tell they were choosing to ignore Dale’s lesson in what constitutes murder.

I look at each face and see that no one is making eye contact with Rick. They don’t even have the balls to say they want Randall dead.

Dale takes a step toward Rick, “They are scared. Give them a chance to think. Time is all I’m asking for. Just a little time. We can take a vote after we had time to think it over.”

I have to give it to the old man, he is trying to fight for what he thinks is right.

“One day.” Rick nods. I can see Shane throw his hands up in the air behind him. “We reconvene at sunset. Then what happens, happens.”

There is no reason for me to stick around and I really don’t want to. After shoving a few pieces of bacon in the rag I keep in my back pocket, I start back toward the tent. There is no movement from inside so I hope she is still sleeping. The less she knows about what is going on the better.

 

**Mel’s POV**

For once I didn’t wake up like I have been every other morning. There was no habitually silencing a scream that had been building inside of me while I slept. Nope. Today was different and I have to say that there is a weird pleasure waking up to the sound of birds singing instead of your own screams.

It means two things and both of them are going to make my day a lot easier. The first is that I actually slept for a few hours and secondly, I was able to start the day in some way other than having to calm myself down.

I sit up before the nightmare from earlier last night and the events from yesterday have time to resurface which will no doubt ruin my surprisingly good mood. I notice movement on the other side of the tent and find Daryl watching me.

“How long have I been asleep?” I didn’t watch the sun come up so for all I know it could be late afternoon.

I know he hears me but for some reason decides not to answer my question. Instead he just continues watching me intently. It’s weird. Not really in an uncomfortable way but more of a _Do I have something on my face that I can’t see_ way. I’m not one for direct eye contact so I look away first and feign interest in the floor. Before I did, I notice his shoulders and body are tense, something I’ve never seen from him.

Before I can ask him what’s wrong he reaches his hand out, “Here.” His voice is the opposite of the morning declarations from the birds but I still find it just as encouraging. He hands me a rag. When I open it up I quickly overlook that the fabric is more than slightly dirty and my focus switches to the bacon sitting inside.

After the last week, my appetite is finally back and with a vengeance. As soon as the bacon smell hits my nose my stomach starts cheering for it. I close my eyes as I take the first bite. I want to savor the salty crispness for as long as I can.

It is a known fact that crispy bacon is far superior to gross limp bacon.

“Thanks. I was starting to forget how food other than squirrel tasted.” I take another bite, “Did you want some?”

Daryl is shoving a few things into a bag but shakes his head at me. When he reaches for the canteen sitting next to me I notice his knuckles.

“Daryl you’re bleeding. Are you okay?” Dropping the bacon, I grab his hand to examine his injuries. “What happened?”

He pulls away from me and continues packing.

“It’s nothin.”

“We should at least clean it up. Beth gave me a first aid kit and it has some basics.” I’m already getting out of my sleeping bag to find the kit.

“Look. Ya wanna learn to shoot or would ya rather stay here playing nurse? Cause if ya do, there is someone in that shed who can use your medical expertise a lot more than I can.”

I can’t help the flinch. It’s a mixture of Daryl’s tone and the reminder of Randall that has me reacting. I open my mouth to say something but I only end up closing it. He is a grown man who can take care of himself. Hell, he is taking care of both of us really so what am I going to say? Biting my tongue, I grab the bag he was packing and carry it out of the tent.

Normally I would be pissed that someone talked to me that way but I’m not my normal self. Plus, I am too busy racking my brain for a reason why he would be upset with me.

_He is clearly someone who likes to be alone and then I come around crashing his party. I’ve been following him around a lot. Maybe he is finally tired of me being his shadow. Or what if he doesn’t want to take me shooting and all I did was give him a chore._

That doesn’t make sense though. He offered to take me last night and he would have no problem telling me to go away. No, I bet it has something to do with the marks on his knuckles. Combine that with the fact that Randall apparently needs medical care and I’m smart enough to figure out the two things are related.

I’m pulled out of my thoughts by Daryl’s muttered curses which precede him throwing the flap of the tent back and stalking past me. I notice he heads in a direction we haven’t gone in before and I follow.

“We don’t have to go Daryl. You are probably sick of me.”

He stops and I can see his jaw flexing.

“Suit yourself.” He spits on the ground, “I’m gonna go no matter what but I packed stuff for two.”

Without waiting for the conversation to continue he continues walking. I can’t help but smile a little at his not so straightforward way of saying I’m invited.

It only takes walking a few yards before we are surrounded by trees. Daryl seems to know where he is going, which isn’t really a surprise. The man would know how to get back to camp even if he was dropped off in the middle of Egypt. That is the type of confidence he radiated.

I am far less confident in my navigation skills and I force my shorter legs to stay no less than a few feet behind him. Flashbacks from my nightmare last night start to happen and I pick up my pace. I don’t care if we are within shouting distance to the camp. There is no way I am getting lost in these woods again.

He is definitely different today. I keep stealing quick glances at his back. I noticed it when I first woke up but he is more tense and not just because he snapped at me in the tent. He isn’t even caring about how much noise he is making. Basically stomping, it’s like he is pissed about something. I just don’t know what.

As we keep walking further into the woods I notice he starts to slow down. My eyes stay on his back and I start to see that with each step further away from the farm his shoulders seem to relax a little more. When he stops, we are standing in a small clearing. It seems weird when I look around. It is almost a perfect circle. I wonder if the trees just decided that the soil in this spot wasn’t fertile enough so nothing planted roots here.

Daryl grabs the bag from me and lets it drop to the floor of the woods. Then his crossbow is in front of me. I knew after the tracking lessons that he is more of a hands-on teacher but I at least expected a rundown of the safety do’s and don’ts before I touched a completely foreign weapon. A weapon that I have seen firsthand the damage it can inflict.

“It ain’t gonna bite.” He lifts it a little higher letting me know that I am supposed to take it.

Hesitantly I grab it and as soon as he lets go it drops. I have to use both of my hands to keep it off the ground. How in the world does he make it look so easy?

* * *

 

It feels like I’ve been at this for hours and I’m just as bad as I was the first time I pulled the trigger. To Daryl’s credit though he isn’t getting frustrated like I am. All I have to do is put one arrow, or bolt, into the tree that’s no more than twenty feet in front of me. My arms are shaking from trying to keep the weight of the bow up and from cocking it by hand. I am using muscles I didn’t know I had.

Letting my breath out one more time I pull the trigger and watch as the bolt misses the tree…again. Wiping my forehead, I let loose a string of words my daddy wouldn’t be proud of and stomp off to retrieve the damn pain in my ass. I can’t believe I wanted to do this.

When I return to my spot I see Daryl is still sitting in the same place he has been since he handed me the bow. He spent ten minutes showing me how to get it set up and then let me at it.

“You know just by dumb luck alone you should’ve hit your target by now.”

I stop setting the bow and raise my eyebrow at him. It’s the first time he has spoken since I started practicing.

“Excuse me? _You_ are my teacher so what does that say about you?”

“That I need a better student.”

I’m getting pissed and my arms are starting to refuse my commands. With one last pull I get the string set and load the bolt. I lift it up and face my stationary target.

I hear Daryl moving around but I figure he is going to the bathroom. He has enough sense not to get in front of where I’m aiming so I’m not worried about it. Perspiration has soaked my shirt and I try to slow my breathing again.

“You favor the right side when you cock it.” I jump a little when Daryl’s voice comes from right behind me. If my finger was on the trigger I might have released it. “You need to take that in to account when you aim.”

Then I feel him at my back. His hands are adjusting my arms, taking the end of the bow with them. I’m aware of how close he is but I don’t freak out. He isn’t pushed up against me like you see in the movies where the guy is trying to show the girl how to shoot and uses it to his advantage. I know there is no ulterior motive in what he is doing.

I hear his retreating footsteps and move my finger to the trigger. Applying a little pressure, it doesn’t take much for it to send the bolt off with a quick snap. Then a hollow “thunk” sound is heard next.

“I hit it!” I run over to the tree to make sure I’m not seeing things. “Do you see this? I finally hit it!”

My hands are gesturing to the feather sticking out of the tree like I am a model at a boat show. I can’t stop smiling and Daryl is just standing shaking his head at my excitement. Didn’t he know this was a big deal? I just hit a tree. With a crossbow.

Then I realize something.

“Wait a minute.” I stomp over to him and point my finger at his chest, “You knew this whole time why I was missing and you didn’t tell me? I’ve been out here most of the day and you didn’t think to tell me it was as simple as moving my arms a couple of inches before now?”

“You didn’t ask.”

_Are you serious?_

I throw my hands up in the air and start to laugh, “Of course. How stupid of me. I forgot to ask.”

I don’t know why my reaction is to laugh except that it was either that or cry. Here I am shooting to the point of exhaustion and I thought I was just a terrible aim. But nope. I just needed to ask Daryl.

“Let’s get something to eat Hawkeye.”

I know he is being more flippant than serious in the nickname but I did hit the tree…eventually.

 

**Daryl’s POV**

She doesn’t need to say it I can see she is tired. I’m surprised she has lasted as long as she has. Even after her arms were shaking from the fatigue she kept going. I have to respect the fact that she doesn’t give up easy. Sure, I felt a little bit like an asshole by not correcting her sooner but I wanted to see how long she would be at it. There is no doubt in my mind that she would still be trying to hit the tree if I hadn’t stepped in.

Another reason I let her keep shooting was because she was fully focused on the task. Her mind wasn’t thinking about Randall or the baby. No one says anything about it but I’ve caught her hand absently going to her belly. She might not talk about it out loud but it is clearly on her mind.

Then when she hit the damn tree it was like she bagged a lion or some other type of big game. All that jumping up and down and smiling. I don’t think I have ever been that excited about anything in my life. It made me even more pissed at myself for how I treated her this morning. She didn’t deserve me snapping at her but I’ve never really had anyone but Merle express concern over me. Even then, unless I was to the point of bleeding to death Merle wouldn’t have cared.

I don’t hate my brother but he had a fucked-up way of taking care of me. I can’t complain because he was the only one even trying to take care of me but his way was hammering home the message that “Life’s not fair”. I was taught that it was just him and me and everyone else just wanted something from us. Concern was something I didn’t know how to react to and it usually meant that person wanted something in return.

Pushing her away is the last thing I want to do but maybe I should. I don’t want to disappoint her but she will come to her senses eventually and see what kind of person I am. Then she will look at me with the same look that the others do.

I’m not fooling myself, no one would ever look up to me but at least she doesn’t look down at me. Which is more than I can say for everyone else. Each one of them at some point has looked down their nose in my direction.

Not that it matters now. We are all in the same boat just trying to survive.

I slow my pace because I can hear her breathing. I keep forgetting that she isn’t as fast as me and has to work to keep up. By the time she reaches me I already have a bottle of water out and waiting for her. She takes it and greedily gulps some down before muttering thanks. We are still a good way from camp but her face is flushed from the combination of shooting and walking.

“Take a breather. We aren’t in a hurry.”

“Oh thank God.” She breaths out before she leans against a tree and takes another drink. I don’t know if I should admire her determination or yell at her for not speaking up sooner. It is obvious she wanted a break but instead of asking for one she just kept going.

She has more reason than anyone but I have never heard her complain.

After a few minutes, she is starting to look less winded. I am about to get us moving again when we both hear the sound of something moving deeper in the woods. Whatever it is it’s making a lot of noise. I raise my crossbow and start to head in the direction it’s coming from. I can see the girl following behind me.

Up ahead a large branch is moving, rustling the leaves. From my peripheral I watch the girl move behind a larger tree trunk. It does little to hide her but at least I know if whatever is up ahead is too much for me to take on she has a chance of making a run for it. It’s one less thing for me to worry about. With a nod, I let her know to stay where she is and I continue moving forward until I am standing in front of the problem.

“What the hell?” I lower my weapon and look up at what was causing the noise. A walker is dangling from a branch. The rope used to tie a noose was cutting into the decomposing flesh around his neck. It must have heard us which triggered its renewed fight to get down and was making the rope dig deeper. That wasn’t even the worst part though. The legs have been gnawed on, leaving nothing but bone and loose tendons hanging down below its knee caps.

The rustling of leaves behind me tell me that the girl is breaking through the tree line. She is looking up at the walker, her hand is over her mouth and I can tell she is trying to stop the bacon she ate earlier from coming back up.

“What happened to him?”

“My guess is the dumbass was bit and didn’t know enough to shoot himself in the head. Walkers probably came through and ate his legs while he was hanging up there like a big piñata.”

Her eyes are still glued to the walker in the tree, “Why don’t you see if there’s anything in there we can use?”

“Uh-Yeah. I can do that.”

 

**Mel’s POV**

It was horrible what happened to that man. I wanted to turn away and run in the other direction but at the same time it was like looking at an awful car crash and I couldn’t bring myself to look anywhere else. I’m glad Daryl distracted me with a task because I have had my fill of throwing up lately.

I turn to the green tent and pull back the flap. My nose is immediately assaulted with a stench that makes me gag. In an attempt to block it out I bury my face into my arm, still afraid I was going to throw up. One step inside and I know the culprit is the floor of empty cans, some with food still in them, that were left to bake in the Georgia heat for who knows how long. Doing a quick scan of the small space I see a couple of things we could use. In-between two tattered sleeping bags I find a flashlight, pocketknife, and some granola bars. In a hurry to get out, I bend down to grab them and shove them into my bag. That’s when I notice a stained piece of paper folded up and sticking out from under one of the sleeping bags. A wallet was set on top of it.

I pick it up and unfold it. The handwriting seems rushed and almost illegible through the brown stains but I start to make out the words:  

_“I’ve never been a man that was good with words and I doubt anyone will find these last ones poetic. I just have the urge to write a final letter. This letter, even though no one will probably read it, are my last words._

_My life has been a long one filled with war, hard labor, and witnessing the unthinkable acts mankind can to do to the other. Out of all of that the hardest thing for me was watching my beautiful wife turn into one of those monsters. Her name was Margaret and her blood is still on my hands even as I write this. I have no delusions of grandeur and I know that any impact I have made on this world is small but I like to think she was the one thing I did right in my life. I just hope she knew how much I loved her. She was my light and in these terrible times you need hope to keep going. I’ve lost mine. I am nothing more than a ship sailing aimlessly in the dark with no lighthouse to bring me to harbor. A place that takes something so beautiful and kind and turns them into something that is unrecognizable isn’t a place I want to live._

_I plan on burying her close by, a single stone to mark her once amazing life is all I can offer her. Then I will take a rope and find a tree so that she and I can be together in whatever afterlife there is.  I’m not sure if anyone else will think this is a good enough reason to die but I’ve lost everything and I don’t want to go on._

_I hope to see you soon sweet Margaret,_

_Sarge”_

 

**Daryl’s POV**

“Find anything?” I ask the girl when she finally emerges from the tent.

“Yeah. Couple of small things.” Her voice is unsteady and it makes me look up. She is back to watching the walker with an unreadable expression on her face but the sun reflects a pool of unshed tears that have built up in her eyes.

“Let’s head back.”

My voice seems to break the trance the walker has over her and now her eyes are on me, “Aren’t you going to…?”

“What?”

“Take care of it?” she nods upward.

“What for? He ain’t hurtin no one. It’d just be a waste of an arrow. Besides, he made his choice let him hang.”

I start to walk away but the girl moves closer to the walker. Stopping when she is almost directly below and her head has to lean back to look up at it. The only noise it can make around the rope tight around its neck is a sick gurgling sound which intensified when she moved closer. Its arms start reaching for her like it is desperate to hug her and bring her close.

Anything that was human is long gone. It’s nothing more than a rabid animal now.

“I want my knife.” She faces me and the tears have finally spilled over. “Please.”

I don’t question her. The determination in her voice tells me there is no point. Placing the hilt in her hand I’m no longer worried that she is going to do anything to hurt herself. Even if she decided on it down the road, it is her decision to make.

 

**Mel’s POV**

I feel the weight of the knife and wrap my hand around it. Trying to block out what is above me is impossible. Even if I could, I don’t want to block it out. This is the world now and I need to get used to it. The only thing being afraid of these things is going to get me is killed by one of them.

I don’t recognize who the walker is but something about him is familiar and not just because of the letter I read. I know that it’s a trick of the sunlight being filtered through the trees but my daddy’s face keeps coming to my mind the longer I watch it.

Something inside of me is telling me not to leave him hanging in a tree just because of one mistake he made. The letter is now in my back pocket and I know If I was in his boat I might have done the same thing. Actually, I was in his boat and I had tried to do the same thing. I just happened to have Daryl stop me. So, it doesn’t seem decent to keep punishing him. Daryl might be okay with it and that’s fine but I can’t look at them and not be reminded that they were people once. This guy that I now knew only as Sarge had a family. A wife that he cared about and he probably had hopes for their life once. Just like I did mine.

We, the living, just happen to be lucky enough not to be where they are yet.

I stopped walking at some point, lost in my own thoughts, and have gone back to watching Sarge. Shaking my head I make my way over to the base of the tree and squeeze the rough texture of the knife again. I know what I want to do I just have to make myself do it.

Pressing the blade against the already fraying rope at the tree I cut the remaining strands that are holding together. I watch as Sarge falls to the ground with a sickening crack. The useless bones in his legs snapping with the ease of a branch. My feet refuse to move in the direction I want them to. They refuse to move at all.

The walker, Sarge, isn’t even stunned by the fall and is already pulling the remains of his broken body closer to me. His nails digging into the ground move him along the surface. The glazed eyes stay on me, never blinking and the entire time the mouth continuously gnaws so it doesn’t miss an opportunity if flesh finds it way close.

_You have to do this. Just raise the knife up and take care of him. It’s the right thing to do. He doesn’t want to live like this. You can do this. You’ve done this before. This time is no different._

My silent pep talk is doing little to motivate me but I continue to repeat it in my head. I’ve already cut the rope and set him free so I’m halfway there in completing my task. Now I just have to put him out of his misery and hope he can find Margaret.

Since my feet will not cooperate I’ll just stand here until he comes to me.

Looking at my hand I have the need to visually check that the weapon is secure. It is and it suddenly feels heavier.

I close my eyes and take in a deep breath. I hold it until my lungs burn before finally releasing it on a sigh. The rustling has gotten louder and when I open my eyes the walker is no more than four feet in front of me. Whatever primal force is driving it to eat seems to make it move faster when I make no effort to run away.

My hand holding my daddy’s knife is now level with my face. I will need the extra momentum if I am going to drive the blade into the skull with one try. A hand reaches out for my leg but I am still too far out of its reach. My eyes are drawn to the face again and what I see makes me gasp and causes my hand to drop a little.

I squeeze them shut to block out what I think I saw. 

I know that my mind is just playing tricks on me. Daddy is dead and isn’t coming back, not even as a walker. I made sure he wouldn’t.

My eyes fly open when I feel something touch my shoe. Gone is the face of my father and in its place, is the walker I don’t know. I take a step back before it can fully grab me. Now that my feet are listening to commands I seize the opportunity and move around to the side of the walker and I drop to my knee.

My next move is done without thinking. I bring the knife down until it is buried in the base of the neck. Like a switch has been flipped off, the head and arms of the walker stop and land on the ground with a muffled thud. Looking down at the corpse I don’t know what to feel. I turn around so I no longer have to look or figure out what emotions I should be feeling right now.

My sleeves angrily wipe the wetness from my cheeks. I didn’t even realize I was crying. There was no reason to be crying. I wanted to do this and no one would have cared or judged me for just walking away, leaving him to hang until the rope finally gave out on its own.

Except, I would have judged myself. I would have spent every night re-reading Sarge’s note and I would have hated myself knowing that I left him all alone.

I completely forgot that I wasn’t alone until I hear Daryl’s movements behind me. In a last-ditch effort to erase all signs of my breakdown I keep my eyes to the ground. I refuse to meet Daryl’s blue eyes that seem to see everything with just a quick glance. I’m ashamed by how often he has seen me cry and I do not want today to be another tally on the list.

What does crying do anyway? It rarely does anything to solve a problem. It can’t bring my family back. It can’t stop the onslaught of memories I want to forget in the light of day.

No. Crying does nothing but leave you with a puffy face and a headache.

I cough and force my voice to sound stronger than I am, “Let’s go.”

* * *

 

I like to think that in the time it took to walk back to camp I’ve managed to make myself look like a completely normal, completely sane girl. Maybe I do? I don’t know. What I do know is that inside I am chaos. Conflicting emotions are battling inside of me and I want nothing more than to just turn them off.

What is a person called when they have no sense of emotions? A sociopath? A psychopath? I can’t remember but now that I hear the names out loud in my mind I don’t think I want to be either.

Emotionally conflicted sounds way better than psychopath. At least on paper anyway.

“What the hell does he want?”

I look up to see what Daryl is talking about. Dale is sitting on one of the stumps around our fire pit. He spots us coming out of the trees and stands up, removing his hat in the process. I have the funny thought that I like him better with the hat on. It gives him more of a goofy demeanor.  Makes him look less old. More alive.

“Stay here.”

He doesn’t wait for me to respond he knows I’ll listen. I can’t afford not to.

They can have their secrets or whatever it is they want to keep from me. I have enough on my plate.

I risk getting a few feet closer so that I can sit down on a tree that has long fallen over. I’m going to take this little time that I have and think. Thinking is better than crying. More productive.

A piece of paper and a pen would be great right now. Writing things down always help me manage my thoughts when they get like this. Instead I close my eyes and take a few deep breaths. When my mind is working overtime, I can almost see the thoughts bouncing around in my mind. White words against a black void. The deep breaths seem to slow the words and I can manage them.

It probably sounds crazy but the best way I can explain it is that it is like a touchscreen computer or tablet. I’m able to visualize the thoughts and sort them into columns only I can see. Making it easier for me to focus on them one at a time. Once they are in order I skim through the list I have made and decide to delve deeper into some of them later.

Two words stick out the most right now:

Sarge and Daddy.

I know why they are brighter than the other thoughts. The two only have one thing in common.

“She’s staying the hell out of this.”

I focus more on my intangible thoughts, trying to tune out whatever Daryl and Dale are talking about.

“-Daryl. Just hear me out. Mel has a right to know. She has a right to voice her opinion just like the rest of us. It’s a man’s life we are talking about.”

With my name being said I open my eyes, causing my list to shatter, and look at the two men. Hearing them has gotten a lot easier since they aren’t even trying to stay quiet now. Yelling at each other, I know they have forgotten I am even here.

“No.”

“Just like that you make the decisions for her now? Does she know that?”

Dale sees me walking toward them but Daryl still has his back to me. Deep down there is a piece of bitterness that wants to come out. That they think it’s okay to talk about me like I don’t exist. It makes me feel like less of a person. Someone who has no free will and is so broken that others have the need to make decisions for me, afraid that I will break if I am forced to do anything.

The double-edged sword and the only thing keeping my anger in check is that Daryl is probably right to shelter me. I have always been a predictable person but my predictability went out the window the night everything was taken from me.

“It’s not like that. This groups broken. Doesn’t matter what she or I think. Shane will get his way, he’ll make sure of it. There’s no need to bring her in.”

“Bring me into what?” With my question, Daryl finally notices I am here and I can see his bottom jaw go tight out of frustration. Blue eyes meet my green and I know he is silently trying to stop me from asking anything else.

There is no time for me to come to my own decision because Dale takes a step forward and my eyes follow him.

“I hate to ask you this but I feel like you should know. Your opinion can make all the difference tonight.” My face must have showed disbelief because Dale gave a small smile before he continued, “It’s true. What you say matters. It can save a kid’s life.”

“What is he talking about?” I ask Daryl but he just nods for Dale to tell me.

“Randall.” _Nope. I don’t want to listen to this. I will be giving wide berth to whatever it is concerning that person._ I shake my head and retreat toward the tent. “Mel, they are going to vote tonight on if they should kill him. I think -I know you are a good person and like me you don’t want any more bloodshed.”

I stop.

A string that has been pulled too tight for too long snaps inside me. It turns out that string was tethering an emotion I rarely used. Rage.

“A good person?” I shout and take a step toward the old man. “That monster down there is not a good person. Some people shouldn’t get to live.”

“You think he is one of them?”

“YES!” I spit the word. My hands are shaking as I voice my condemnation of a man, “He is a catalyst for everything that’s happened. He is the reason everything turned to shit. He is not a good person! A good person doesn’t stand by while bad things are happening. They sure as hell don’t hold a gun to my daddy’s head, laughing as he begged and pleaded for them to stop hurting his babies. Because of him I had to watch my daddy make the decision of trying to help us or save us from watching him die in front of our eyes.”

I have to sit down. My legs are trembling from either exhaustion or from the release of emotions.

“Should a person who smiles when innocence is taken get to live a happy laugh while the ones he ruined are left with nothing?” I whisper.

I’m left with nothing. Nothing but memories that won’t go away and a burden I don’t want to think about.

  1. Am. Nothing.



Suddenly all of the rage and sadness I just felt and what was the cause of my outburst disappeared.

“I have a headache.” I mumble as I walk into the tent.

* * *

 

I know Dale left a while ago. Not sure if Daryl is out there or not, the man thrives off of making the least amount of noise possible. I should be taking advantage of the quiet but as soon as I sat down my brain shut off.

It’s what I wanted but I also know how this works. My thoughts will remain dormant until something sets them off again. It could be something small and something that makes no sense to anyone not even me but it will happen.

Proactive.

That’s what I am going to be and by doing so I’ll try to slim down the issues I have going on.

Eyes closed. List in order. I go back to Sarge and Daddy since both are still fresh in my mind. The one thing the two have in common is the source of my inner turmoil.

Both took their own lives.

Sarge took his because he lost his wife. The love of his life and the only person he wanted to live for. I understand why he did it. I even feel sympathetic.

Yet, Daddy took his and I hate him for it. He still had Harmony and I. Two people that he should want to live for because they didn’t know how to live without him. He chose to leave us behind without even writing a note or saying goodbye. If he didn’t care enough to stay and help us pull through what happened, did he ever cared? Were all those “I love you’s” throughout my entire life nothing more than lies?

Why would he choose to go? Weren’t we good enough. Because of him and his selfishness I lost Harmony. After he put the gun to his head and pulled back the trigger she thought it was because of us.

“It’s our fault. We’re disgusting! That’s why he did it.” My sister shouted at me after I found our father in the tent. We had been out looking for wood for the fire when I heard the single gunshot. Somehow, I knew what it meant even before I saw. A stone landed in my stomach that day and hasn’t left since. “Can’t you feel it Mel? There’s a layer of filth I can’t get off.”

I tried to argue with her. Tell her he didn’t do it because of us but when she would ask why he did, I had no response.

The sad thing is that right after I lost Harmony, I started to believe it was our fault to. He had made his message loud and clear that day.

That message being, we weren’t good enough for him, we weren’t reason enough to keep living. His final unspoken words to his teen daughters were, “I don’t love you anymore.”

It made sense for Harmony to think it was because of what happened to us. Our rape (I hate that word) seemed to be the turning point for him.

I know dying is natural and no one can escape it but you’re not supposed to go looking for death by standing in the middle of the street calling his name. He is gone and I am left with nothing but more questions than answers. I will never get those answers and if I keep trying to figure them out on my own I will only succeed in driving myself crazy.

_“What daddy did and why he did it does not matter.”_ I tell myself _“What matters is being strong enough to stay alive when he couldn’t.”_ My hand hovers over my stomach and for the first time I acknowledge the life growing inside me. _“I have someone counting on me and I won’t make the same mistakes.”_


	6. The good man

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in posting. Thank you for all of the kind comments and I hope this story can live up to expectations.

**Chapter 6**

**Daryl’s POV**

I’m frustrated at not being able to do shit and it’s driving me insane. For the third time, I stand up and start to walk into the woods before I stop. Hell, I have even thought about breaking something on Merle’s bike so I have an excuse to work on it.

I just need to do something to get my mind off of what I heard and saw but at the same time I don’t want to leave her alone.

Her emotions are easy to read most, if not all of the time. She never tries to hide them. It’s one of the things I like about her. That she doesn’t feel the need to put on a poker face. Unlike most people there are no ulterior motives when it comes to the girl. What you see is what you get which is a rare thing to find among the human race.

However, she did manage to surprise me when she unleashed her fury on Dale like he was the physical embodiment of the room she destroyed not that long ago. Anger is to be expected from her after everything she has gone through and I can handle a pissed off girl who has a reason to be pissed off. That’s not the problem. It is the other side of her that I saw that is bothering me. Behind that anger was a pain so real it was almost tangible.

I can distract her from her it but I can’t do anything to stop the pain.

I wanted and _still_ want to kick Dales ass for making her upset to the point that she finally spoke for the first time about what happened to her. She didn’t go into graphic detail but what she said made my blood feel hot under my skin. Just thinking about it now makes me want to save Rick the trouble and put a bullet in Randall’s head myself. The only thing stopping me is that I would have to leave her to go do that and something is telling me to stay.

What the hell is wrong with me? I’m making decisions off of someone I don’t know from Adam. I need to reel it in. I should not be caring as much as I do about her. There’s absolutely no reason for it.

I tell myself that it seems like a smart idea to start putting some distance between myself and the girl. I’ve learned the hard way that there is only one outcome when you get too invested in another person.

Disappointment. And I’ve had more than enough fill of disappointment in this lifetime.

Just look where all of that pointless caring got me with Sophia and Carol. It changed nothing -Sophia is dead and Carol lost her daughter. I couldn’t afford to care in the world before and I sure as hell can’t afford to care in this new world.

I stand up with every intention to start heading toward the farmhouse but only make it a few steps before I stop and look back at the tent.

Why is she being so quiet? I expected to hear humming, singing, or her reading out loud but there hasn’t been a peep from her since she zipped up the tent. I’d actually welcome the sound of her crying at this point just so I know she is alright.

Maybe I should check on her? I move toward the tent but find myself stopping again.

Distance, I remind myself. I need to put distance before one or both of us end up disappointing the other. It’ll probably be me doing the disappointing. I start back toward the farmhouse where the others should be gathering soon for the vote.

I make it three steps before my feet turn around.

God dammit!

 

**Mel’s POV**

It’s really hard to ignore the rest of the world when I keep seeing Daryl’s darkened outline pace back and forth on the side of the tent. I’m not really in the mood to talk to anyone, not after my verbal confirmation of rape.

There is no cathartic release after that. It does not feel freeing to finally get it off of my chest.

I sigh and close my eyes. There is no more pretending it didn’t happen now.

I’m tempted to roll over in another failed attempt to ignore the world that’s on the other side of these four thin walls but that wouldn’t be fair to Daryl. Besides, I feel like he is the type of person who would be willing to ignore everything I said. Actually, he would probably be relieved if I act like nothing happened with Dale.

Yeah. I think it is safe to say that he is definitely not the Dr. Phil type whose big on emotions. I’m a hundred percent okay with that. Getting a second chance to wrap myself in a cocoon of denial sounds pretty good right now.

Before I can talk myself out of it, I sit up and open the tent. Immediately I’m met with a wave of cool air that send goose pimples (my sister’s term) up my arms. It’s almost completely dark now and only a few lights from the farm house seem to be lighting up the night. The house almost looks like a beacon signaling safety. And it would probably be just that if I didn’t know any better about what was going on down there.

I hate to admit it but what Dale said to me has been replaying in my head and it is bothering me. The outcome of someone’s life was about to be decided on and I honestly wasn’t sure if I cared what the final decision was going to be. Was I a terrible person for not caring if another human being lived or died?

Ugh. I’m not emotionally stable enough to figure out moral dilemmas right now. I’ll just add it to my growing list of other internal problems I need to work out.

Out of nowhere Daryl walks into my field of vision causing me to jump. I was so caught up in staring at that stupid house that I zoned out. He continues to bite his nail and I want so badly to slap his hand out of his mouth. It’s gross. His hands are dirty and I shudder just thinking about what he is chewing on.

“Need something?” his voice is gravelly and only made more so when it breaks the quiet surrounding us.

“Nope.” I respond and move toward my designated log “I just wanted some air.”

He takes a seat across from me but neither of us say anything. Silence doesn’t bother me. In fact, we usually settle into a comfortable silence together. On a normal night, he would start sharpening sticks or skin whatever he killed today and I would productively poke at the fire.

That’s not happening and for the first time the silence is awkward. It is hanging heavy in the air between us and when he scrubs his hands over his face before standing up I know he feels it to.

As soon as I realize it, my heart sinks until it sits like a rock in the bottom of my stomach. I had hoped that nothing would change. That we could pretend I didn’t say anything but that is not the case. It’s pretty obvious that he isn’t sure what to do or how to act around me now.

I don’t want anyone’s pity. Especially Daryl’s. I don’t want him to act or treat me any different than he did before. He made me feel normal. I can’t lose that.

The thought of being treated like an outcast or having everyone walk on eggshells around me makes me physically sick. It would just be a constant reminder that what happened to me changed me as a person. Somehow making me less of a human in others eyes.

I. AM. STILL. ME.

That one vile act didn’t change who I am and it sure as hell isn’t going to define me in the future. I refuse to be the girl that hears whispers of, “There’s that poor girl. It really is a shame what happened to her.”, said as I walk by.

“Please don’t.” the words tumble past my lips before I realize I am saying them. He stops lining up the piece of wood he is about to chop and looks at me. A questioning look. “Please don’t treat me different.”

My voice is steady. To my own ears, I manage not to sound like I am begging. Of course, I’m not opposed to begging if it comes to that but that will be a last-ditch effort. Not to mention it would undermine the message I am trying to send. Besides, I think my eyes are doing enough pleading on their own. This is important to me.

I watch his face as we stare at each other. He has a face I could study forever and never learn anything new from. It’s the same face he always wears and just like every other time I look at him, I have no clue what is going on inside his head. It hasn’t escaped my notice that I have never seen him with a full-on smile or heard him laugh. Not that the world today has much to laugh or smile about these days but his face is always completely unreadable.

I want to turn away and look anywhere else. The way he looks at me, it’s as if he’s reading my soul. It’s too intense. I’m about to be the first to break in our impromptu staring contest when all of a sudden, his eyes seem to harden and then he nods.

I am probably reading too much into it but I think that look of hardness was any pity he felt toward me disappearing. Then with a single nod I finally breathe a sigh of relief.

We hold our gaze a second longer before he straightens and continues to talk like I didn’t just bare my soul to him, “Thinking ‘bout goin down to the house. Beth will be there if ya want.”

“I think I am going to stay here. Not really in a social mood.” _Plus, weighing the pros and cons of killing someone isn’t exactly the type of social gathering I want to be a part of. “_ But you should go.” I add on before he feels obligated to stay with me.

He is thinking about staying with me. I can see it on his face but it doesn’t take long before it is gone. Good.

“Besides, I have a big night planned. First, I am going to build a fire.” I announce in an attempt to act normal. “Then I am going to try and cook dinner.”

I catch an actual grimace on his face when he hears I plan on cooking. It’s nice to have a running joke with him. Even if it is at my expense.

“Already ate.” Daryl says as he slings his crossbow over his shoulder then starts down the hill. I know he is lying because he would have saved some food for me, he always does, but I still find myself smiling as I bend over to pick up some wood.

Normal.

Normal is good.

 

**Daryl’s POV**

Dale had until sundown to convince whoever he could to vote his way. I look around the room. The gangs all here but no one is talking. We could start but my guess is everyone has already made up their mind and what we are going to decide is best left for when the sun fully goes down.

Judging by Dale’s face I don’t think he was able to sway a lot of people in his favor. He’s scared for all of us.

While everyone keeps twiddling their thumbs waiting for Rick to kick off the party I move further into the room. It doesn’t pass my own eyes that I am physically putting space between myself and the others but I’ve never been one to psychoanalyze. Plus, my new spot in the back of the room is closest to the door and near a window. I pull the lacey curtain back and see the tent and the soft glow of a fire further up the hill. At least she hasn’t started a forest fire or anything.

With little light in the sky left, Rick is the one who breaks the tension by moving to the center of the parlor. The setting makes this especially weird. All of the lace doilies, family photos, and fresh cut flowers aren’t really setting the scene.

Then again, I guess the only setting execution talk really fits is a dilapidated house or the back room of a mobster’s deli.

“We all know why we are here, so let’s see where everybody stands.” Rick’s words are the first ones I have heard since walking into the house.

“The way I see it, there is only one way to go forward.” Shane says from the other side of the room.

“Let’s not beat around the bush here.” Dale takes off his hat and steps forward “If we are going to be voting on this then I think we should voice what we are doing. We are voting to either **_kill_** a man or spare his life. I for one think that if someone is voting to kill him then they should at least be able to say the words because no one has said them.”

“I’ll say it Dale.” Shane raises his voice and looks around the room. Meeting the eyes of everyone else. “If it comes down to any of us or that complete stranger out there. A stranger, I might remind you, that has already shot at our people and has that girl Mel--“

“--Keep her out of this.” I push off the wall and interrupt the asshole. I know damn well he doesn’t give a rat’s ass about her and there is no way in hell she is going to be used as a chess piece. Shane does nothing more than look at me while raising his voice as he keeps talking. Prick.

“--going into hysterics just by looking at him. I’m going to choose us. Every time. So yeah, I’m okay with killing him if it keeps us safe. That includes keeping you safe Dale.”

“The rest of you?” Dale tries to sway everyone else standing around since Shane has clearly decided. “This kid might be an asset to us, we don’t know. Just because he wasn’t with us from the beginning doesn’t mean he can’t become one of us.”

“What is your solution Dale?”

“Give him a chance.”

“To do what? To help farm the land? Milk some cows?” Shane continues to argue with Dale. “Look, say we give him a chance. Let him join us, right?” Shane rubs his hand over his head “Maybe he's helpful, maybe he's nice. We let our guard down and maybe he runs off, brings back his 30 men.”

“Are you seriously justifying killing a man to prevent a future crime that he may not attempt?”

“If you go through with it, how would you do it? Would he suffer?” Patricia speaks up.

“We could hang him, right? Just snap his neck.”

“I thought about that. Shooting may be more humane.”

I almost scoff at Rick’s concern over being humane. The kid is being tied up in a barn and beaten but God forbid we treat him inhumanely when we kill him.

“-And what about the body? - Do we bury him?” The others start shooting off questions. Like any of them matter. The end result is still the same.

“So, it’s already decided then?” I watch Dale wring the hat in his hands “This is a young man's life, and apparently, all it is worth is a five-minute conversation! Is this what it's come to? We kill someone because we can't decide what else to do with him? You saved him and now look at us. He's been tortured. He's going to be executed. How are we any better than those people that we're so afraid of?”

The barrage of questions stops while Dale’s words sink in.

“Anybody who wants the floor before we make a final decision has the chance.”

The room stays quiet but a few of them sit down. There is nothing for me to say. I’ll go along with whatever the others want but if the kid is granted some miracle and does get to live. My eyes will be on him. Waiting for him to fuck up.

“You once said that we don't kill the living.” Dale tries one last time to get Rick to see to the same reasoning he has.

“Well, that was before the living tried to kill us.”

“But don't you see? If we do this, the people that we were-- the world that we knew is dead. And this new world is ugly. It's Harsh. It's-- it's survival of the fittest. And that's a world I don't wanna live in, and I don't-- And I don't believe that any of you do. I can't.  Please. Let's just do what's right. Isn't there anybody else who's gonna stand with me?”

The room stays quiet until someone speaks up.

“He's right. We should try to find another way.” It’s Andrea. Which surprises me. She seems so damn eager to shoot anything that gets within five yards of the farm. Figured this would be right up her alley.

“Anybody else?” Rick asks and looks around the room. The continued silence is enough of an answer. Even I can’t look at Dale right now. He is crying. I know why he is trying so hard. He wants to save us from ourselves, trying to stop us from doing something we can’t come back from. What he doesn’t know is that most of us are already past that point.

“Are y'all gonna watch, too? No, you'll go hide your heads in your tents and try to forget that we're slaughtering a human being. I won't be a party to it. My conscience is clean.”

My eyes can’t seem to meet Dale’s as he walks toward the door. Then a hand lands on my shoulder and an old man who is tired of trying throws my previous words back in my face.

“This group _is_ broken.”

 

**Mel’s POV**

I don’t mean to toot my own horn but I am pretty proud of my fire. It’s the first one I made on my own and I kind of feel like pulling a Tom Hanks in Castaway and yelling “I have made FIRE!”. That might be overkill since I used a lighter and not a piece of string and branch or anything but when we would camp daddy was in charge of setting up the camp fire. I was given tent setup while Harmony was on food detail. Which meant she just sat on the cooler and made sure the hotdogs didn’t go anywhere.

It’s a nice distraction. Sitting in front of it, I can almost make-believe I am camping with my family. It’s something I do often around the fire, escaping to make-believe. Making s’mores and telling stories are always done around a campfire. It’s basically the law.

Wishing I had some marshmallows and graham crackers to go with my rapidly shrinking chocolate, I take another bite.

Dale is walking toward me and suddenly the fire reverts back to nothing more than a pretty heat source. I think about pretending to be asleep but I know he saw me sitting here. Plus, his earlier words already made me feel enough like a coward. What he said had stung and I didn’t like that he made me feel things that he viewed as wrong. Things that I was taught were wrong and never would have believed myself capable of feeling. Until today.

Without his normal smile or greeting he sits down across from me. He does nothing more than stare at the same flames I am.

The vote didn’t go his way.

Unfortunately, I missed the column by Dear Abby on what the proper etiquette is when trying to comfort someone that has failed to save a man’s life. For some reason saying, “There is always next time”, just doesn’t seem like enough.

I’m saved from coming up with a lame attempt of breaking the ice when he speaks first.

“I want to apologize to you. I had no right in asking you to do what I did. The moment just got away from me and I don’t know what I was thinking.” My heart breaks when his voice cracks.

I’m still new to this group and the people in it but there is always an air of hope surrounding Dale. The few times I have talked to him, that unexplained sensation of ‘things might be alright’ fills you when you do. It is gone now. The man across from me is just like everyone else. Beaten down and hopeless. A feeling I can’t explain washes over me. It’s like I’m witnessing the loss of one of the last good things in the world.

I have barely been keeping myself hanging on by a thread for the last eight weeks and yet I want to comfort this man.

“My father did a sermon once about a man who was walking home from the grocery store late at night and he saw an elderly man being robbed in an alley. The passing man thought about calling the police. He also thought about helping the old man. He even ran several ideas of what he could do through his head, but in the end, he decided to keep walking. When my father asked, who was the bad man in this situation most of his congregation answered with ‘the robber’.  I guess most people who hear this story would think that the robber was the worse of the two men. I did when I first heard my father tell it. But my dad made me realize we were all wrong when he said, ‘Evil is only allowed to be evil because no one stops it’. So, I realized the bad man in my father’s story wasn’t the one physically hurting another it was the man who witnessed injustice and did nothing.” I clear my throat and finally stop watching the fire. Instead I look up and meet Dale’s eyes. “You were right Dale. I’m a coward for doing nothing. I should have said something. But you did. You are a good man and you did everything you could to save him. To save us.”

For all I know my story is no more than nonsensical rambling but I remember the impact it had on me when I heard my father say it and I want Dale to know what I think of him. I do believe he is a good man. It is so much easier to go with the tide instead of fighting it because no matter how much you fight and no matter how many waves you make it feels pointless at times. But as exhausting as it is, if you don’t fight it, eventually you are carried out to sea.

He fought. He tried. That is what matters. It’s more than I did even after I realized I was going to have a part in killing a man. Because it was easier for me to stay sitting here in front of my fire pretending I was camping instead of facing the problem.

Dale stands up, puts his hat back on his head, and his rifle of his back. Then he looks down at me, the flames from the fire cast shadows on his face that make him look eerily skeletal. “The world has always been a hard place but this new one is not for an old fool like me. I’m too set in my ways but you-“ he points at me “-You are young enough to make a difference. Don’t let this sickness that has tainted everything change you Mel. You keep that spark that I see when I look at you. Daryl sees it to ya know. It draws people to you and some of those people will try to snuff it out. You just let that fan the flame and you keep us in line because we are going to need you before we set down a path we won’t make it back from. I’m going to go for a walk.”

Then Dale turns and walks into the field, leaving me stunned and only silence following behind him. It’s a silence that seems to materialize so much thicker and heavier than it was when I was sitting by myself. Suddenly feeling a lot lonelier, I watch him until he is nothing more than a slightly lighter black figure against the night.

I go back to watching the fire while I think about what he said to me, trying to forget how I’m sitting here all alone.

I wonder what he meant. I mean how can I have a spark? Let alone one that draws people. I’ve always seen myself as ordinary and figured that is how others saw me as well. I don’t feel like anything about me is particularly special.

It was probably nothing more than him just trying to make me feel better.

 

**Daryl’s POV**

Rick leading the way and Shane behind us I’m stuck pulling the kid like he is a pig to slaughter. Which I guess he sort of is. He is confused, he hasn’t been let out of the shed since we brought him here and now he is being escorted at night away from the house. His situation must become clear because as soon as he sees that we are taking him to the barn he starts to panic.

“Wait. Wait.” I ignore him and keep the same pace. The old door groans when we enter. The smell of mildew and hay surround us. Stopping where Rick points in the middle of the barn I move away from the kid.

Other than Randall’s begging Shane is the only one to speak. He does so while placing a blindfold over the kids’ eyes, “This will all be over soon.”

I don’t think the blindfold is necessary. It’s obvious what we are going to do and Shane’s words definitely sealed the deal.

He starts full on crying now.

“Would you like to stand or kneel?”

Come on Rick. The kid can’t even see what is about to happen so it doesn’t matter and it actually feels inhumane to drag this out any longer. The best thing would have been to take him out into the woods and put a bullet in the back of his head without him knowing. That way he wouldn’t be pissing his pants like he is now, knowing that he is about to die.

“No please. Please.”

The girl’s words from earlier come back to me. She said she had begged him for help and now all of a sudden, I don’t care about being humane anymore. He can beg all he wants. I end up kicking his injured knee. Forcing him down so that he is kneeling. I do it in hopes to speed up the process. Rick has looked unsure of what we are going to do since we walked into this barn.

“Do you have any final words?”

“Please don’t. Please.” More begging.

I watch Rick look at Shane who only nods. Then he looks at me. I’m not sure what he is looking for. Maybe he wants me to put a halt on the whole damn thing but that’s not happening. If Rick wants to be the leader, then he can have at. Being leader includes having a big enough pair of balls to follow through with his own decisions.

Not getting what he was looking for, Rick raises his Python to the kid’s head. The sound of the hammer being pulled back is harsh when paired with Randall crying. There is no denying what is going to happen now.

Rick’s hand is steady as he keeps it pointed at Randall still kneeling in front of him. His finger moves toward the trigger.

“Do it dad. Shoot him.” I turn to see Carl standing in the open doorway of the barn watching as his dad is about to kill someone in cold blood.

Talked about fucked up.

Shane grabs Carl by the arm and drags him outside. I watch as Rick keeps the gun pointed until his son leaves, then his stone face starts to crack as he wages a battle with himself. The angel on his shoulder must have won out because he drops the gun back to his side.

“Take him away. Take him away.” I grab a visibly relieved Randall and drag him back outside. When I pass Shane, I know he is beyond pissed at this outcome. I can’t say that I blame him. To be honest so am I. Not only would it be a hell of a lot easier and safer for all of us just to shoot the kid but maybe if the girl knows he is dead she will finally sleep through a full night.

It takes a while to get the kid back into the shed. I basically had to drag him. His injured leg, near death experience, and blindfold make it impossible for him to keep walking. The walk to the shed gave me some time to think and I don’t know what Rick’s plan is going to be but I have already made up my mind. I know what I am going to do.

He is still blindfolded. I tie his hands to the beam above him leaving them pulled over his head.

“Please. Just let me go. I won’t do anything. I swear.”

As much as I want him to beg and realize that no one is going to help him I don’t want anyone else made aware of what I am about to do. I think the saying is something along the lines of, “it’s easier to ask forgiveness after rather than permission before”. So, I shove my rag in his mouth.

I don’t find any pleasure in what I am about to do but there is no way in hell I am going to trust him to just forget everything we’ve done to him so far and happily join our group. Not to mention that the girl will only remember what happened to her and her family every time she sees him.

Not going to happen.

According to Shane and Rick, he knows where the farm is. Which means, we can’t let him go with the expectation he won’t be making a return visit. Either looking for revenge or supplies.

No. This is the only way.

I pull my knife out of its holster.

Randall is still mumbling through the rag. I now know why Rick hesitated. I’ve hunted my entire life so I know where to hit him to make it as quick and painless as possible but this isn’t a deer or a raccoon. This is a human being. I know the bleeding-heart vegans would argue that an animal’s life has the same value as a human one. Hell, and maybe they do but I still find myself stopping before I push my knife into his beating heart.

I use the back of my hand still holding the knife to wipe the sweat from my upper lip.

I hear Merle’s voice in my head say, “Stop being a pussy and just do it already.”

Which is exactly what my brother would say. He would have no problem doing this. Actually, he would have already taken care of it. There is no doubt in my mind that the kid wouldn’t have made it out of this shed earlier today if Merle had heard his confession about his group and what they’ve done.

I don’t know if I should emulate my brother or try to avoid becoming him.

Not willing to completely lose myself by killing a kid, I take a step back. If Rick has him staying on the farm I’ll ask the girl if she wants to go. I have no problem leaving, don’t think she would either. We would probably be better off fending for ourselves anyway. I’ll leave it up to her.

Holstering my knife, I turn toward the door, leaving Randall sobbing behind me. I’m about to lock the door back up when a blood curling scream pierces the night. Without another thought, I run out of the door and follow the noise.

There is no doubt in my mind who that scream belongs to.

I knew I shouldn’t have left the god damn tent. The screams aren’t coming from our two-person camp. She has enough sense not to wonder off in the middle of the night. That just means that something is wrong, as if the screaming didn’t already clue me in. Either way it has me running like the devil himself is behind me.

This is exactly why I didn’t want the responsibility of another person. A thousand thoughts are going through my head as I try to make it to her. As much as I want to get to her I’m afraid of what I’ll find when I do. She is my responsibility.

Fuck!

The screams get louder then become words, “Help! Help!”. Rick and the others are behind me but I ignore their questions of, “What’s going on”, and continue to run.

 

**Mel’s POV**

I jump to my feet and strain my eyes to try and penetrate the night. I know I heard something. It sounded like someone shouting but it was too muffled at the same time. The fog is making it impossible to see anything and really setting the tone for a scene in a horror movie. Still seeing nothing and only thinking about Dale, I run in the direction I last saw him. The urge to make sure he isn’t somewhere hurt in the field alone fuels me.

“Dale.” I whisper-yell “Are you alright?”

No response. I stop moving and listen. That’s when I hear a different sound. One I have heard before, in my nightmares. A noise that sometimes wakes me up at night. My legs start running toward the noise and through the fog, I see a blurry figure kneeling on the ground.

“Thank God.” I slow down. Thinking that he must have fallen down and twisted his ankle.

“Are you hurt Dale?”

He doesn’t respond and as I keep walking my mind starts to put things together at a rate I can’t process. It takes until I am standing about five feet away for me to finally realize what I am looking at. A walker is leaning over Dale. A large part of Dales shirt is no longer white. Instead it is almost black.

Blood.

The sound is all I hear now and I know that I was right the first time I heard it. Teeth chewing and eating human flesh is something that will stick with you for a while.

I scream until the sound of Dale being torn apart is drowned out.

The walker is too invested in Dale to pay me any attention but Dale’s eyes turn toward me. Pleading. I think I’m still screaming but my hand grabs my knife and for the first time, instead of running away from the dead I start running toward it. I don’t want to be the guy who does nothing when someone needs help.

I kick the head of the monster, hoping that it will stumble back so I can hit its eye or go through the ear. It does what I want but it also pulls away with red stringy bits still in its mouth. I ignore it and hope that it will only take me one try because I don’t think I have multiple attempts in me. I want to close my eyes but they stay open. By some miracle I watch as my hand holding the knife buries into the right eye socket.

It stops moving.

I leave my knife forgotten in its head and frantically crawl to Dale. I think I hear voices coming.

“Help! Help!” I scream. I might have been screaming it all along but I can’t be certain.

My shaking hands go to Dale’s throat trying to cover the gaping wound. They are immediately coated with something hot and sticky.

“You’re going to be okay. Just hang on. Just hang on. Hershel! Daryl!”

He grips my wrist. His breathing doesn’t sound like breathing. It’s another noise that will be forever burned into my nightmares.

_Maybe he has asthma?_ I know as soon as I think it I’m in denial.

The others are almost here. Good. They can help Dale.

Daryl is the first to reach us. Rick is close behind them.

“Help him. He needs help.” I don’t understand when Rick turns around and puts his hands on his knees. “Why aren’t you helping him!”

Everyone else is around us now. Their crying is at least making it harder to hear Dale’s struggling breaths.

I look back at Dale and notice the bleeding is slowing down. His jerky movements make it look like he is convulsing.

“He’s suffering. Do something.” Someone else says and I finally put together that he is slowly drowning on his own blood.

Carol starts to pull me away from Dale and I let her. It’s just like Harmony all over again -there is nothing I can do. Dale is going to die.

I am starting to shut down. I watch everything around me with a sort of detachment. I know what is happening but I can only observe. Emotions are no longer in play.

Rick points his gun at Dale’s head. I can tell he doesn’t want to pull the trigger. His finger touches the trigger but he doesn’t put weight behind it. Someone else’s hand touches the gun and Rick hands it over, relieved to give the burden to another. Daryl is now holding the gun and he kneels beside Dale.

Our eyes meet for a second but Daryl’s face is blank. I look away when he raises the gun to Dale’s head again. I don’t want to watch. Instead I close my eyes and hope that this is all another nightmare. I have so many that it’s possible this is another one.

“Sorry brother.” Then a gunshot echoes through the night making me jump.

* * *

 

The numbness starts to wear off. Carol is holding me to her chest, crying into my hair. Through my haze, I realize it is a protective embrace. She is keeping me from seeing the scene that just played out. Unable to deal with this right now, I push away from her and start walking toward the tree line.

Terror, anger, and sadness whirl through my mind like the three were the only options on some sick wheel of fortune. I just don’t know which one it is going to land on yet so I keep my pace in a direction I’m not familiar with. I just see trees. It’s away from what just happened and that’s good enough for me.

I finally run out of breath and I’m relieved to find myself standing in the forest. Blackness still surrounds me but the scent of the woods alone has started to calm my breathing. My hands run over my face. When they do, I notice the sticky wetness again. Holding my hands up toward the sky I already know what I am going to see but my stomach finally loses the good fight when I see what the moon reveals.

My hands are now the crimson red of blood and I suddenly feel the heat as the blood continues to slowly run down my arm.

 

**Daryl’s POV**

It all happened so quick. She was on the ground. The desperate scream for help that hadn’t stopped since I first heard it continued. The girls’ hands covered in blood. Dale lying as still as a statue. Pain obvious in his eyes. A pool of black staining the grass underneath him and staining her jeans.

I hand Rick his gun back. Everyone is either crying, sobbing, or muttering things.

My eyes search for one person and I see Carol holding her. No one has to ask her what happened. It’s obvious. I go over to the walker and pull the knife out, wiping the gel like blood off on my pants. Then I kick the limp body out of frustration.

“Mel honey, come back.” Carol is calling after the girl who is now headed into the woods. She doesn’t listen and keeps her pace.

I nod to Carol, letting her know that I’ll follow her. Could do with getting away from the crying myself.

I stay back and watch as she stops and runs her hands over her face. Then I see her turn her head and throw up. Giving her a few minutes to compose herself I watch as she mumbles things to herself while wiping her hands on the grass. I can see the tears from where I am and once again feel like an asshole for invading her private pain.

It isn’t until she becomes frantic, trying to wipe the blood off that I step in.

She doesn’t even look up when I stand beside her. 

“He didn’t deserve this.” Her voice is broken.

“No.”

“He was the good guy.”

There is no reason for me to agree with her. Dale was better than most.

“Were you bit?”

“No.” she shakes her head “I don’t think so.”

I’m relieved but she has a lot of blood on her. I’ll feel better when I know for certain that none of it belongs to her. “Come on. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

She doesn’t argue. She quickly gets to her feet then follows quietly behind me.

I take her to the pond I found not too long ago. It’s on the edge of Hershel’s property and out of the way. I reach for my back pocket but remember my rag is still in Randall’s mouth. Instead, I take off my outer shirt and dip it in the water. Her hands are shaking as she takes the fabric I hand her. Immediately she starts to scrub at her arms and hands. She is still crying silently. Her tears leaving a white trail through the blood on her face. It doesn’t take long for the cloth to turn red.

I take it back from her and do it again until there’s no sign of Dale’s tragic death left on her.

“I can still feel it. His blood trickling down my arms. I can still feel his fingers digging into my wrist.”

I don’t know what to say to her and I don’t think she is looking for a response. I just let her continue to scrub until she feels like whatever she is feeling is no longer there.


	7. Comfort

**Chapter 7**

**Daryl’s POV**

I killed a man.

It was a mercy killing but according to the law (not that the law much mattered anymore) what I did is still considered murder. He was alive before I pulled that trigger. I was the one responsible for his death. I am the reason he stopped breathing.

If I found humor in things I might think it was funny how just a few minutes before I pulled the trigger on Dale, a person I liked, I had stopped myself from killing Randall, a complete stranger. All because I didn’t want to cross that invisible line. The one Dale had warned us about in the house.

Is that considered irony or just shit luck?

Even though what I did is going to bother me for a while, I don’t regret it one bit. I did it for Dale. He was in pain. He even managed to lift his head toward the barrel of the gun I was holding to let me know that it was what he wanted. That it was okay.

He could be one big pain in the ass at times but I’m going to miss the old bastard.

I wonder if she sees me as a murderer now. I look over and can see the girl walking next to me. She isn’t screaming at me to get away from her so maybe nothing has changed. At least she stopped crying. I’m not sure how long we sat on that dock while she scrubbed her skin. Eventually she either tired herself out or she finally stopped feeling the nonexistent blood on her. The skin on her arms and hands are now an angry red. I should have stopped her sooner but it felt like I was watching some kind of internal cleanse on her part and I couldn’t bring myself to interrupt.

The walk back to the tent has taken a while because I wanted to avoid the area where we last saw Dale. I imagine the others have moved his body and are already digging a grave but I don’t want to risk it. I can handle seeing the old man but she still hasn’t said anything. She is barely standing on a somewhat balanced scale at the moment and one wrong thing is going to tip it. My goal is to hold that off for now because when it does tip, it won’t be in anyone’s favor.  

The fire is extinguished and is nothing more than embers by the time we make it back. Still silent, she takes her seat and stares straight ahead like the flames are still going strong.

“You should change outta those clothes and get some sleep.” We both needed to sleep but I doubt either of us would be able to get some tonight. She doesn’t move to do what I say. Instead she looks up at me and I notice that her green eyes seem darker now. “Go on.” My boot taps her foot for encouragement.

I’m all about letting people do their own thing. I hate when people tell me what to do but sometimes people need a reminder or a good kick in the ass. Luckily, I’m saved from having to deliver that kick because she gets up and disappears behind the tent flap.

 

**Mel’s POV**

I keep bouncing between a state of numbness and into a state of emotional overload. My mind isn’t sure how to react to what happened tonight and I don’t blame it. There is no way I could have prepared in any way for what the world is now. I don’t think my college offered an ‘How to emotionally deal with the apocalypse 101’ class. Even if they did, how can I even start coping when I can’t get a second to catch my breath before being faced with another tragedy?

I’m glad I have Daryl keeping me on track. If it wasn’t for him I would still be out in the woods by myself with no idea of what to do. He came along and tethered me back to the ground with nothing more than his presence. Daryl Dixon is officially my anchor.

He just doesn’t know he has the job yet.

Inside the tent, I start to take off my clothes. My jeans are stiff in places and in other parts they stick to my legs as I try to pull them down my body. I’m still holding Daryl’s damp shirt from the pond and use it to clean my legs. It is dark enough that I can’t see the red of Dale’s blood on me but my mind still knows what it is.

When I remove Daryl’s vest I run my fingers over the rough outline of wings before I sit it on the ground next to my sleeping bag.  I don’t see any blood on it but the black leather of the vest makes it difficult to know for certain. The white shirt, also borrowed from Daryl, is next to come off. It didn’t fare as well. The bottom of it is visibly stained a dark brown and I throw it in the corner of the tent.

I’m left standing in only my bra and underwear when I realize I have nothing to change into. I can’t bring myself to put the bloody clothes back on but there is also no way I’ll allow myself to stay this vulnerable. Since being on the farm I haven’t been naked for anything other than to shower and to change. Using a blanket that is itchy against my skin, this thing seriously feels like it is 100% wool, I cover up as much as my body as I can.

My bag that I take into the woods when we go hunting only has a few granola bars and some water bottles. I didn’t even realize I have been wearing the same clothes for as long as I have. Now I am screwed and I only have one option.

“Daryl.” I call out from inside the tent, my voice surprisingly strong. “Do you have another shirt I can borrow?”

Silence.

Maybe he didn’t hear me? But before I can ask again his hand, and only his hand, appears inside the tent. He is holding a dark green long-sleeved shirt and once I take it from him the hand disappears again.

I put it on and for once I’m glad I am a short person because the shirt almost reaches my knees. I would prefer to have pants to complete my ensemble but honestly, I don’t care at this point and I don’t want to bother Daryl again. I’ll ask Maggie for some clothes tomorrow. As I gather up the dirty clothes I make a point to add doing his laundry on my list of things to do tomorrow. I don’t want to be any more of a burden to Daryl. At least not more than I already am and unlike cooking, laundry is something I know I can do.

I put the vest back on because I feel a little less exposed with its weight on my back. Then I use the awful blanket as a makeshift skirt and tie it around my waist before getting into my sleeping bag. If I am lucky maybe sleep will sneak up on me and knock me out because I am exhausted but jittery at the same time. It feels like I drank five cups of coffee and downed two handfuls of sleeping pills at the same time.

Is this what shock feels like?

If so, it is awful. Now that I am alone I can’t seem to focus. I need a notebook and a pen to jot things down because my mind is wandering all over the place and I keep leaping from thought to thought with no time in between.

Not having a way to sort out those thoughts is making it impossible to sleep! I can’t close my eyes because of what I see when I do and every little thing is keeping me awake and on edge.

An owl hooting? Nope. My brain is telling me that it is definitely a walker.

The wind whispering through the trees? Oh, it is probably a group of people in the woods currently plotting our death.

All very logical, right? Well try telling my mind to stop worrying.

I know Daryl is still sitting just outside so I decide to join him. There is no sense is trying to sleep anymore because it isn’t going to happen. Plus, if something is outside in the dark I think Daryl would know and I can follow his cue instead of allowing myself to make up potential disasters every time I hear a noise.

It takes some maneuvering but I manage to get outside the tent while still keeping my legs inside the sleeping bag. I’m grateful he has restarted the fire. Every night the sun goes down it feels like it is colder than the one before.

I’m from the south. I hate the cold.

He is laying with his head on a log and his arm draped over his face paying me no attention. Slowly, because I don’t want to fall in the fire, I make my way over to my own log and wrap my arms around my knees. Still cocooned, I close my eyes as the flames warm my face and the air cools the back of my neck. It is almost the perfect combination of hot and cold.

Maybe it is being around someone else or maybe it is because that person is Daryl but I finally feel myself start to relax. I notice that the stars have decided to come out. There is no way I will ever get tired of seeing them like this. With no light pollution, they really are breathtaking. The night is so clear and they are so bright that I think I could count them all if I had the time.

Right now, looking up at heaven, it is easy to forget that just beyond the reach of this fire demons are out there. Both man and the dead who would be more than willing to destroy the last few things I have left to care about.

I jump when Daryl throws another log into the fire. A shower of sparks rises to join the stars I was just admiring.

He mumbles a quick, “Sorry”, around the cigarette in his mouth. Out of habit, I attempt a reassuring smile but it turns serious when I remember that Dale is dead. I shouldn’t be smiling. Dale doesn’t get to smile anymore.

It’s terrible when anyone dies but after tonight I feel closer to Dale. Knowing that I was the last person he talked to, makes me feel obligated to make sure his memory doesn’t die. Everyone wants to be remembered for something they accomplished or for some inspiring words they once said. I only wish I could remember exactly what Dale said to me before he went into the field. I should have written them down but I didn’t know I would never see him again.

The stars are no longer holding my attention and neither is the fire. I look at Daryl and see that he is watching me. I don’t catch him often but I think he does that a lot. His face is dark and impassive, the light from the flames only deepening the shadows. It looks like he has something he wants to say but he isn’t sure I want to hear it.

“What?” I ask and I’ll admit I _am_ a little unsure if I want him to answer me. Too much has happened and I don’t know if I can take anything else.

He stays quiet before he takes another drag from his cigarette and flicks it on the ground at the same time he exhales the smoke from his lungs. Then I watch as he wrinkles his blue eyes as if he is weighing what he is about to say, “Randall’s still alive.”

My spine stiffens as a chill runs down it.

…Okay. I wasn’t sure what he was going to say but it sure as heck wasn’t that. I assumed he was already dead.

\- “I can kill him.”

Another bombshell has just been dropped on me. And why did what he just said, sound more like a question than a statement. Was he asking me if I wanted him to kill Randall?

_Do_ I want him to kill him?

Fragments of the last words Dale said in this very spot start to come back to me. Then the whole conversation comes back to me and I know that I can never ask that of Daryl. My life hasn’t exactly been steady lately. If I had to compare it to something I would say it was the equivalent to a train car off the rails, bumping over rocky ground at high speeds, and heading into a downward slide right off a cliff. But since meeting Daryl he has stayed a constant middle ground for me. By some miracle, he somehow seems to have his stuff together in this awful world. With him I feel like the car might get back on track.

Hopefully that happens before the baby comes.

“No.” I shake my head as I say, “Dale was right.”

 

**Daryl’s POV**

When it came to the opposite sex Merle thought he was an expert. He also drilled into my head early on that if a woman wanted to spend time with you she wanted something in return. I never paid my brother any mind when it came to relationship advice; mainly because I never really had a relationship that lasted more than a month and I can’t say that Merle’s were particularly healthy either. He wasn’t necessarily wrong about this but I always argued it was human nature not just women.

The list was short but when Merle was proven right he never failed to be there with an, “I told ya brother”.

I had gone out with a bartender named Jenny a few times but put an end to it after she wanted me to pay off her overdue rent. Then there was Abby. She wanted me to “hook her up” with the “good shit Merle had”. The cake topper was Samantha. She wanted me to be a substitute husband/daddy to her and her kid while her old man was serving time in prison. These were all examples Merle would throw in my face whenever he thought I was “going soft.”

When I asked the girl about Randall I wasn’t sure what her answer was going to be. I had run the scenario through my head a couple of times before I asked her and it could have gone either way.

She said no.

I respected that but I don’t think I would have blamed her if she had said ‘yes’ either. There is zero doubt in my mind that the three women I mentioned before would have all said yes in an instant.

She is different.

Now I’m confused why the girl is up here in my tent instead of down at the farmhouse. They can provide her everything I have been. Probably do an even better job of food, shelter, and company. So why? What does she want from me?

Maybe she wants nothing. I guess it’s possible. I tell myself that I am overthinking it and that Merle’s shitty advice is just drilled into my head.

 

**Mel’s POV**

I guess I managed to get a couple of hours of sleep after all because I wake up inside the tent instead of outside which is the last place I remember being. I don’t know how I got in here but I sometimes switch to auto pilot during stressful situations so I’ll chalk it up to that.

I stretch out my legs and I feel a weight on top of my sleeping bag. I reluctantly sit up because I don’t really want to start my day. Nothing has happened yet and if it has I am blissfully unaware of it. But I’ll have a short life if I refuse to leave this tent so I force my arms to lift me up. When I do I find a clean pair of jeans and underwear at my feet. A piece of paper that looks like it was ripped out of a notebook sits in between the clothing.

The writing is a beautiful cursive and I immediately know it is too feminine to be a man’s handwriting,

_“Daryl said you needed some clothes. Hope they fit! If you need more don’t hesitate to let me know._

_-M”_

The man is a saint! I don’t even care that the jeans are a little tight around the waist. I was cursed, or blessed depending on how you looked at it, with wide hips. My momma’s hips. They made finding jeans that fit perfectly almost impossible and I dreaded going shopping because of them. I started buying in bulk after a sale associate who was a very nice older lady that smelled like peppermint, told me that I was “blessed with child bearing hips”.  

Something a thirteen-year-old doesn’t want to hear.

The good mood that the fresh clothes put me in turns solemn when I remember those innocent words spoken by someone I will likely never see again. I guess we will see if these hips come in handy in nine months’ time. Refusing to let those thoughts ruin the start of my day I head outside the tent.

Daryl is next to his motorcycle probably doing motorcycle type stuff and a plate of eggs is sitting in my spot. I take a seat and start eating. It isn’t long before Daryl notices I am up and walks toward me while wiping his hands on a rag.

“What are they doing?” I nod toward the bottom of the hill where the small group is starting to gather together.

“Dales funeral.”

“Oh.” I say softly because I somehow managed to almost forget what happened last night, “Guess we should get down there.”

He gives a silent nod, which is how he usually communicates with me, then he slings his crossbow on his back.

I find the eggs on my plate no longer appealing and scrape the remainder into the fire before making the silent trek down to the others.

I would say that up until recently I have been lucky for the most part, only having to attend one funeral in my life. Looking back on it, my mother’s funeral feels like it took place in another lifetime.

I guess in a way it was another lifetime. I don’t remember much other than my aunt was staying with us and she made me put on a very itchy black dress that I hated. I remember that she was crying a lot which made me stop fighting her about it because I didn’t want to make her sad. Any memories of the funeral itself are very vague. I don’t remember who came and I don’t remember what was said. I do remember climbing into my bed that night and holding mom’s pink and white scarf to my face so that I could smell her perfume. I think I remember closing my eyes and pretending she was still there because I must have known I would never see her again.

When we get close to the familiar oak tree I notice that for once this group is quiet. Normally I hear everyone talking and carrying on their own conversations. But today, it’s like everyone is afraid to talk. When I look at the ground I see why that is, the outline of three plots are easy to spot by the overturned dirt and the circle of rocks surrounding them. Beth’s mom Jo, Sophia, and now Dale are buried here. Three lives that were cut short.

Three might not seem like a large number but I’m sure every cemetery started out with only one or two graves. The thought that everyone standing around me is going to end up dead puts an unsettling feeling in my stomach. I force my thoughts elsewhere. Too negative and we already have an abundance of that around us.

Instead I scan the group and spot Beth standing with Hershel, Jimmy, and Patricia all gathered around her in a protective circle. I’m glad that they have each other but it makes me very aware that I don’t know where I fit in among everyone. Andrea, Carol, T-Dog, Carl, and Lori are huddled together with their own tears for Dale in their eyes. Glen has his arm around Maggie but I can tell the support is more for his benefit rather than hers. Rick and Shane stand next to each other but the tension between the two seems to still be there.

I’m not sure what I should be doing, so I do what I always do and look up at the sky. I find that it doesn’t match the setting of a funeral. In the movies, it is always raining and a parade of black umbrellas circle around each other. Apparently, Mother Nature didn’t get the memo that today is supposed to be gloomy. Birds are chirping, completely unaware of the sadness we are feeling. The sky is a perfect shade of blue with puffy clouds making it even more picturesque. Maybe this is some sort of sign that things are only going to get better.

I doubt it. There goes that negativity again.

I stand furthest away from the graves with Daryl on my right. I didn’t know Dale as well as the others and I don’t want to intrude on their grief. Standing where I am and feeling like I am doing nothing more than observing makes me very much aware that I am an outsider here. I even think about going back to the tent but Rick clears his throat and breaks the silence before I can make up my mind. Along with the rest of the group I look at him to start.

“Dale could—he could get under your skin. He sure got under mine, because he wasn't afraid to say exactly what he thought or how he felt. That kind of honesty is rare and brave. Whenever I'd make a decision, I'd look at Dale. He'd be looking back at me with that look he had. We've all seen it one time or another. I couldn't always read him, but he could read us. He saw people for who they were. He knew things about us-- the truth. Who we really are. In the end, he was talking about losing our humanity. He said this group was broken. The best way to honor him is to unbreak it. Set aside our differences and pull together, stop feeling sorry for ourselves and take control of our lives, our safety our future. We're not broken. We're gonna prove him wrong. From now on we're gonna do it his way. That is how we honor Dale.”

By the end of Rick’s words, I can feel a few stray tears falling down my cheeks. Not so much because of what he said. But more because I started to realize during his words that couldn’t have been truer about the man they were meant for, that If I died today I would have no one that would really care. I’m sure everyone here would have the decency to dig me a grave and say a few words but they wouldn’t be anything personal. The closest I have to a friend here is Beth. Even then, Harmony was our only common bond. Without my sister, I’m not sure what it is we have.

Then like they didn’t just say goodbye to a huge part of their group everyone starts to leave without looking back; until it is just Daryl and I left behind. I look at him and see that he is staring at the last two graves. Dale and Sophia. A million thoughts of what he could be thinking start to run through my head and for some reason I think he feels guilty. He has absolutely no reason to feel guilty for either of their deaths, and I can’t explain how I know, but I know he does.

Daryl takes out his smashed package of cigarettes from his back pocket and puts one in his mouth. The words to tell him that their deaths aren’t his fault are on my tongue but I know from my own experience that those words are meaningless. Instead, I take one last glance at Dale’s grave and say my own silent prayer. It’s doubtful but hopefully someone is still up there listening.

On the walk back to the others, I think that maybe I can help Rick and Hershel with whatever needs to be done today. But by the time I catch up, everyone is already moving around like a well-trained unit. I’m sure a lot of it is needing to keep their own minds off of the fact that they just said goodbye to Dale but it feels wrong. We only gave him a few minutes of our time.

Rick is standing beside Hershel’s rusty truck and I hover around the hood trying to stay out of the way of everyone rushing around but hopefully still letting him know that I want to help.

Rick’s voice is confident and he sounds sure in every decision he makes. It only takes me two minutes of listening to him to appreciate why they chose him as their leader. It actually makes me feel secure knowing that he is thinking ahead for the safety of everyone on the farm.

It makes me feel like we might have a chance.

When did I start to see this group as a ‘we’?

“T-Dog you take perimeter around the house. Keep track of everyone coming and going.”

I watch as T-Dog glances at me then lowers his voice before asking, “What about standing guard?”

Am I missing something? Because I feel like I shouldn’t be here when Rick looks back at me just like T-Dog did. “I need you and Jimmy on double duty.”

That was weird but no one else seems to think so. I am probably being paranoid.

The group keeps listing off their plans. Hershel is going to stock the basement with food and water, enough that we can all survive there a few days if we need it. They are also going to build two lookout points and have someone on watch at all times.

I guess Dale being killed on the farm has shaken everyone and now every precaution possible is being taken.

Without making any noise at all Daryl appears and stands beside me. I immediately think of that Seinfeld episode where Elaine makes the guy from her office carry Tic-Tac’s so he couldn’t sneak up on people anymore. Although I don’t mind his silent talent.

“Let's get this area locked down first. After that, Shane will assign shifts for tomorrow while me and Daryl take Randall offsite and cut him loose.” Hearing Rick say Randall’s name takes my attention away from 90’s sitcoms and back to what is going on.

“We're back to that now?” Shane yells and slaps the side of the truck making me jump. Daryl takes a step forward almost blocking my view but I can still see everyone stop what they are doing to watch what is playing out.

“It was the right plan first time around. Poor execution.”

“I’d say that's a slight understatement.”

“You don't agree, but this _is_ what's happening.” I take a step back when Rick walks closer to Shane “Swallow it-- Move on.”

“You do know that Dale’s death and the prisoner. That is two separate things, right? You wanna take Daryl as your wingman, be my guest.”

“Thank you.”

I let out a relieved breath I didn’t know I was holding when Rick starts to walk away.

“-But you’re wrong.” Shane yells after Rick. I stop breathing again when I see Rick’s face when he turns back around to face Shane “When that guy gets one of us killed, I ain’t gonna need to say anything because that blood –it will be on you Rick.”

Everyone is watching to see how this plays out. Judging by the dark bruises still coloring both Rick and Shane’s faces, I know they fought once before and I can only imagine the tension between the two is still on the surface and ready to come out again.

To be honest, I don’t know what I was expecting to happen next but it certainly wasn’t Rick giving a quick nod, signaling his agreement with Shane before walking away.

 

**Daryl’s POV**

Rick is finishing up his conversation with Hershel when he spots me coming toward him. Just by looking at him you wouldn’t think he was leading a bunch of strangers that have no clue what they are doing. Especially ones that are trying to survive an apocalyptic situation.

Unlike back at the quarry where Shane was in charge, Rick isn’t barking orders at people or abusing the power that everyone has tasked him with. Nope, that sheriff training he received is in full swing and he looks about as cool as a cucumber.

Except I know it is getting to him. He has a tell; and he’s doing it now. His hand runs through his hair like he is trying to push down some of those curls. It’s nothing like Shane’s violent scalp massage that he does but I’ve noticed it a few times from Rick. Recently it has been happening quite a bit. He might be hiding it well but the man is stressed. Not that I blame him. He has a lot to be stressed about. This is a perfect example of trial by fire because when he fucks up someone could die.

I watch as Rick slaps Hershel on the back then starts to walk over to where I’m standing next to a tree. His eyes stay on the ground and his hand makes another pass over his head again. He stops beside me and looks out over the farm. Everyone is moving around finishing the tasks they were given. Dale’s death is still at the front of everyone’s mind so the vibe is somber but there is a purpose to what we are doing now. Which is good, we need to remember to stay on our toes.

“You think I’m doing the wrong thing?” Rick asks without looking at me. I notice his voice doesn’t sound as sure as it did back at the truck.

I’m not sure of my answer so I pull out my smokes because I need to buy myself some time. It makes more sense to just kill Randall and it could potentially save us some very big headaches later on. It would be so much easier to kill him.

As I bring my lighter up to my cigarette I seek out the girl. I flip it closed when I see her on the other side of the farmhouse. The combination of her hair and my vest make her fairly easy to spot. She is pushing a wheelbarrow behind Hershel’s youngest, Beth, and I can almost see the determination on her face as she gives a strong shove to push the cart over some obstacle on the ground.

I exhale and continue to watch as the air around me turns hazy. The girl already gave me my answer last night.

“Nah, you’ve done right by us so far. Might as well see how far you take us.” I push off the tree and pull my bow higher on my back, “I’m gonna go check the outer fences. See where the one that got Dale came in at.”

“You good to go on your own?”

I try to tone down my scoff when I say, “I’m better on my own. I’ll be back before dark then we can talk ‘bout tomorrow.”

I take three steps before Rick calls my name. I stop and look back at him.

“That thing you did last night...”

I already know what he is going to ask, “Ain’t no reason you should do all the heavy lifting.”

Rick has done more than I would’ve ever done for these people. His son has been shot. His best friend and wife have had an affair. Hell, she might even be carrying Shane’s baby but Rick doesn’t care. That same best friend looks at him like he wants him dead. He has killed in self-defense and he had to shoot Sophia. So, I figure I can at least carry Dale’s death on my shoulders.

I start back toward the edge of the farm. Thankful for no more interruptions and a chance to finally deal with that added weight on my shoulders.

 

**Mel’s POV**

I have to stop again to roll up the sleeves of my borrowed shirt and it is getting annoying. Not only do the sleeves keep going over my hands making me look like Dopey from the seven dwarfs but now that I am moving around and working the long sleeves are making me hot.

“Come on slow poke. We’ve got to start dinner.” Beth’s sing-song voice reminds me too much of my sisters. Just like Harmony did, Beth always sounds like she belongs in the Broadway play of The Sound of Music.

I have to bite down the jolt of raw pain at her memory and in a forced voice I try to sound like nothing is bothering me when I say, “You go ahead. I’ve got to fix these sleeves again”.

“You know you can just borrow one of my shirts. It’ll be easier.”

“I might take you up on that offer later.” I finish rolling one sleeve and smile at Beth, “I’ll catch up with you.”

I watch for a second as Beth shrugs and walks on without me. Her ponytail swinging from side to side is similar to one you’d see on a child at the playground. I enjoy spending time with my sister’s best friend but everything she does reminds me of Harmony. Just little things here and there like the way she talks or the little skip she adds to her walk. So far, I have hidden the twinges of pain Beth’s presence brings. I just need a minute to myself before the memories leave me a blubbering mess.

I start on the other sleeve. It does make more sense for me to borrow a shirt from Beth or Maggie but I like this one. And no, I don’t know why I like wearing Daryl’s shirt so much. It’s not flattering and it already came to me with a couple of unidentifiable stains on it but I find a sort of comfort in wearing it. Just like his vest. It makes absolutely zero sense to me but I can’t argue with how I feel. It’s new to me. I’ve always found comfort in people not objects.

I mean I had a boyfriend in high school, Heath, we dated for three years until he went to Nairobi with his church for mission work. He was a good man and like most high school girls I thought I loved him and we would have the perfect life when he got back. That didn’t happen but when we were dating, I would occasionally wear his letterman jacket. I never felt particularly safe in it like I do in Daryl’s vest. Just warm.

Once my sleeves are secure I look around and see that everyone is headed inside. There is still that feeling of suffocation when I think about being around them but I guess it’s something I am going to have to deal with. Even though the day started off crappy it has ended up being one of the better ones as of recently. Having work to do has kept my mind off things and even though being around Beth has been hard at times, I have enjoyed being in her company. It almost makes me feel like I do when it’s just me and Daryl in the woods. Normal.

I pick up the pitchfork we left outside the barn and carry it inside. After I hang it on the wall I walk over to Nelly’s stall and rub the spot between her ears. Her tail starts to twitch and I wonder if she wants as much as I do to go for a ride. I haven’t ridden a horse in years but I suddenly have the urge to. Daddy sold our mares when I was still in high school claiming that we never rode them and they were a lot of work. He was right and the last I had heard; Lemon and Caroline were happily living on a farm a few towns over.

“Sorry girl. Maybe tomorrow.” I lay my forehead on hers and I listen to her steady breathing.

“She seems to like you.” Shane’s voice startles both me and Nelly who raises her head and throws it back.

I just manage to take a step away before I’m head-butted. Then I take a few more retreating steps. This time away from Shane, hoping that a way out will present itself. My heart speeds up when I look around the barn and notice that he is blocking the one and only exit. Shane smiles but it is not comforting. The only thing that is comforting right now is that he doesn’t move to come closer. I’m sure I look pathetic because I don’t know what to say and my eyes dart around looking for anyone or anything that can help me.

There is nothing within my reach so I go back to watching him.

He is an unsettling person. It’s his eyes, they remind me too much of those other men. The ones who don’t care about anyone but themselves.

“Sorry about that” he raises his hands in a surrendering motion “I didn’t mean to scare you. Daryl was just looking for you and I happened to see you come in here. Thought I’d pass the message on. He was headed toward that poor excuse of a watering hole Hershel calls a pond.”

He gives an awkward laugh at his own joke. I manage to nod an acknowledgment but he still stands there.

I wish he would go away.

I flinch when he violently runs his palm over his shaved head, “I also wanted to –ah-- apologize for how I treated you early on. It wasn’t fair to you and I’m not normally that type of person. I’m sorry.”

I’m not sure if I’m still afraid or more stunned now by what he just said but he does look apologetic. I’m just unsure if it is sincere. I guess my stunned silence has become awkward for him because he clears his throat and rubs the back of his neck, “Well, dinner should be about ready.”

My mouth opens and closes a few times before I manage to squeak out a quick, “thank you”, as he leaves the barn. I’m not even sure he heard me.

I think the only reason I said anything at all is in case there is a chance that I am overreacting when it comes to Shane. I don’t trust my own judgement anymore. For all I know, he could be a nice guy and I just happened to catch him on a couple of bad days. Obviously, it is no excuse for how he treated me before but the world is now full of people who are having to do things they never thought they would have to do. Plus, if he wanted to hurt me just now he could have done it with no problem. Instead he delivered a message, apologized, and left.

I stay where I am for a few minutes as I wait for the pounding in my ears to stop. Nelly lets out a huff and my hand goes back to try and comfort her. A few more minutes go by and she decides that I am less interesting then her hay and leaves me to eat her dinner.

My stomach lets out a grumble when I think about my own dinner but then I remember what Shane said. Daryl is looking for me. Immediately I think that he is probably worried because I wasn’t in the house with everyone else. It’s not like I have given him any reason to think I should be alone. I hadn’t seen him since that weird Rick and Shane confrontation at the truck this morning and now he is missing his own dinner because he is out looking for me.

I trip over my own feet as I run out of the barn and in the direction of the pond Daryl took me to last night. He has already done so much for me and the last thing I want to do is have him needlessly worry about me. Actually, I’m not sure if he would worry about me but Shane’s message means that he is at least missing out on a meal because of me.

* * *

 

The pond looks different in the light of day. Shane was right about the size. It is more like an extra-large puddle but it is a place I could see myself coming to if I needed to relax. I watch as the light breeze makes small ripples on the surface. Combine that with the reflection of the setting sun and it makes the water look like sparkling gold.

I look around but Daryl isn’t here. I don’t have a lot of confidence in my tracking skills without him by my side telling me if I am wrong so there is no way I am going to keep wandering around looking for him. Chances are he will come back through this way or go back to the house. If he does the latter then Shane will tell him that he sent me here.

Still, I should go back to the house but that heavy feeling settles on my chest when I think about being around all those people. Besides, it is peaceful here and all I want to do is hold on to whatever little peace I somehow manage to find.

Exhaustion is starting to set in. Last night was rough. Every time I would close my eyes Dales agony ridden face would make an encore appearance. Seeing his face right before he died. Seeing that terror, pain, and confusion of what was happening to him is no doubt going to haunt me for a very long time. So, it’s no big surprise that those visions are not conducive for a good night’s sleep. In fact, it is quite the opposite.

I’ll just sit here for a few minutes and see if Daryl makes his way back through here.

The ground is still damp from the small rain shower earlier but I take a seat anyway. Grass and mud stains aren’t important anymore. If someone decides to comment on them later then that person clearly doesn’t have their priorities straight. Not that I would say that to the person out loud but I totally would think it.

I lean back and rest my head on my arm. There aren’t many clouds out but the few that are make a stark contrast against the darkening blue sky. It’s more important than ever to appreciate the beautiful things, especially with all of the bad surrounding us. Which is why I find myself spending so much time looking up at the sky. I like to think that enjoying that little bit of natural beauty keeps me from becoming too jaded.

As the clouds slowly glide across the sky, I close my eyes and pull a freeze-framed memory of their faces from my mind. Then I let my mind wander back to that wonderfully pleasant time in my life. Back when I had a loving family that would call me every day after I was done with my classes. They would ask me how I did on that big test that I was nervous about and had spent all night studying for the night before. Then Harmony would ask me what I was eating for dinner. She was the cook in the house and if it wasn’t for her, daddy and I would have lived off of ramen noodles or the only two fast food places in town. Then daddy would always finish our conversation with his scripted, “Love ya baby girl. Talk to you tomorrow.”

I wipe away a tear that has managed to escape my shut eyelids. It’s funny what you remember after someone is gone. I took for granted those moments and would often roll my eyes when I saw their names flashing on my cellphone at what I thought were inconvenient times.

What I wouldn’t give to talk to them now.

The sound of the tall grass shuffling makes me sit up abruptly, forgetting about past regrets. I look around expecting to see Daryl’s face coming toward me but it isn’t his face I see. My throat goes dry, and my racing thoughts start to slow the closer he gets. Prickles of hot panic spread up my spine and neck as a film of sweat immediately breaks out over my skin.

Randall is here. Standing in front of me, and there is no one to protect me. He stops moving at the start of the clearing. Leaving the monster that still finds his way into my nightmares no more than ten feet away from me.

Somehow even though I am afraid, terrified really, I manage to keep a façade of calm on the outside at least. Inside I am screaming and crying. But I know that me breaking down and sobbing isn’t going to do a damn thing to get me out of this situation.

First things first. I tell myself that I need to stand up.

I keep my eyes on him. He doesn’t move. He does nothing but keep his own dark eyes on me. Which is disturbing to say the least. Slowly, like I am facing a spooked wild animal, I start to pull my legs up so I can get into position to stand. To run if I can. Fight if I have to.

He narrows his eyes and quickly takes a step toward me, “Don’t move.” He shouts. A gun I didn’t see before is raised in his hand. Pointing straight at me. “I said don’t move!”

A voice in my head tells me to just make a run for it anyway. But after clearly looking down the barrel of the gun I manage to cold cock that voice into silence.

I stop moving. I’m afraid to speak or nod. I want to be strong but this is the first time that a gun has been pointed at me and I can’t help the tremor of fear that runs up my spine. It’s completely warranted. Guns kill people and I don’t want to die.

My heart is pounding so loud in my chest, I’m surprised I can hear anything else over the heavy thudding.

The world feels like it is spinning out of control as I stare at the small black device that can kill me in a second. It’s all I can think about now and my breathing picks up. The ground suddenly feels unsteady.

Oh God, I’m going to faint.

No, wait. Don’t faint! That would make my situation a lot worse. I guess it’s good to know that my body isn’t completely shutting down. That somehow through my panicked breathing and fear induced endorphins that are currently running rampant throughout my body I know I need to stay conscious. Otherwise I will die.

I don’t know if I am expecting the gun to leap out of his hands and attack me but my eyes haven’t looked away from it. Which is stupid because if he decides to pull that trigger there is nothing I can do to stop it. My breath catches when he and the gun start to walk closer to me. I manage to pull my eyes away from his hand long enough to see that Randall looks like he went 10 rounds with a UFC fighter. His face is swollen and bruised to the point that he is almost unrecognizable. His limp prominent with each step he takes toward me.

“Come on, does it look that bad? Then again if it looks anything like it feels then I must look awful.”

I don’t respond. There is a chance I am dreaming but I know that if I reply then this is actually happening and all too real.

“I gotta admit that when he said, I could make the guy who did this to me pay I didn’t expect to see you here Mel.” The flinch was involuntary when he raised the gun to be even with my face like it was an extension of his hand.

How does he know my name? More importantly who’s the _he_ that he is talking about? The fact that this is happening is just more bad luck on my part. There is no way that this was planned by someone. Right?

It doesn’t matter. Randall is now standing in front of me. I’m looking directly into his eyes and despite the raised skin and discoloration he is intimidating. His irises are nothing more than brown pits of hatred and that hate is fully directed at me.

I shiver as the barrel of the gun, which is surprisingly cold, slides down the side of my face stopping just at the line of my jaw. The threat clear. “How’s your sister? She staying back at the farm to? After we are done I’d love to get my hands on her.”

Rage that he has the nerve to even mention my sister in such a way, fuels my false bravado as I spit the words, “Fuck you” at him. The sharp pain shooting from my temple is the first sign that I have been hit. The second is when my knees hit the ground, slamming onto a rock with a dizzying flash of pain.

My head is swimming and a groan escapes as my headache starts to grow in strength. I’m dully aware of the blood trickling down my temple before I’m pushed forward. A weight on my back stops me from getting up. On instinct, my hands cover my stomach trying to give an extra layer of protection for the small life growing inside.

A scream is in my throat but before it can escape the sound of a gun getting ready to fire stops it.   

I flinch and try to push away from him which only manages to press my chest harder against the ground. My senses are working overtime and I hate it. The rock pressing into my hip feels more like a knife. I can taste the dirt and grass as my face is pushed further into the ground. Then I finally start to cry when I smell his vile breath hot against my ear.

“Stop fighting!”

I do what he says because he jerks my head and I hit the hard dirt again. My head still throbbing as it pulses painfully from the inside out. The metallic taste of blood is now on my tongue.

“You gonna behave?”

I do my best to nod but the quick movement causes a renewed wave of pain that I can’t bear. Instead I manage a quiet, “Y-yes” as a response.

His hand runs down the back of my head before he stands up. As soon as I realize I am able, I try to do the same. I ease up slow, trying not to disturb my pounding head anymore then I have to. My lip throbs and I notice blood smeared on the back of my hand when I wipe my mouth. For just a second I get angry again that he made me bleed but then I remember there is nothing I can do about it and that anger turns to fear.

“Come on we don’t have a lot of time. We gotta go.” He pushes me and I stumble. My only act of defiance is that I clench my fists as I start to walk in the direction I was pushed. Away from the farm.

The seconds feel like hours and with each step I try to send a telepathic cry for help to anyone who will listen. He’s been quiet but I notice that his leg is making it hard for him to keep up with me. It might be stupid but I decide to test my boundaries and pick up my pace. I try to be discreet about it. I even stay facing forward because I don’t want to tip him off by looking back to see how far away from him I am, but it’s no good.

“Slow down.” his thick southern accent growls from behind me.

I do. Because I’m scared.

After a few more minutes of silently walking I somehow find the courage to speak. I think it is more for my own sanity than anything else, “Where are we going?”

He is eager to respond, “You remember that town that had the big tractor pull every year? You probably don’t, I never saw you there but that’s where we’re heading. The leader of our group thought it would be a good spot to set up. He was even trying to keep it like it was before. Yeah, I bet you’ll like our camp. If they have done what they wanted to do you might even get your own apartment.”

He stops talking long enough to see what my response is going to be about my own apartment. But he doesn’t seem bothered that I’m not showing the joy he probably expected. He is treating this like a normal conversation.

“-I mean it can get a little crazy sometimes but it’s a tough bunch of guys. I bet you’ll be _real_ popular.”

I know what he is implying by emphasizing his last few words and I want to throw up. I’ve dealt with people from his group before and I know that I won’t survive it again. I’ll throw myself over a ledge before that happens but hopefully it won’t come to that. The urge to run is stronger and I know that I have already broken the first rule that I was taught in that self-defense class I took my freshmen year. Never go to a second location with your kidnapper.

Think. Think. Think.

I force my brain to work overtime and abandon my walking faster than him tactic. It didn’t work and I am in no hurry to go wherever it is he is taking me. So, I slow down instead. Hoping to use his injured leg to my advantage. The slower I walk the closer I stay to the farm. Daryl, Rick, and the others will eventually realize I am gone and maybe someone will put two and two together when they discover Randall is missing as well.

When he is talking he seems happy. He seems more than willing to be chatty. Maybe I can distract him and somehow make it out of this alive.

“I—I remember hearing about that tractor pull. Every year the senior class would make a big deal about attending. I always heard it was a lot of fun.” I feign interest in hopes that I’m believable.

“Oh yeah. Everyone in the surrounding counties would be there. It was a blast. This one time my friend, Dan…”

I stop listening and realize how easy it is for him to go from threatening me, to carrying on a conversation like we are old friends. What the heck is wrong with him? He has a gun pointed at me!

Realization that he has stopped talking and that he might be waiting for me to respond sinks in. So, I try to force a laugh at whatever he and Dan got into and respond with something that doesn’t show I wasn’t listening to him.

“I never made it but wasn’t it just a couple of towns north of here? Wood---Woodbridge I think, right?”

“Yeah about 30 minutes from here and it’s Woodbury.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

**Daryl’s POV**

“The walker came up from the creek and found a hole in the fence. It had its pick because I seen about six weak spots just walking the little bit I did. Couldn’t hurt to go out tomorrow and start repairing ‘em.”

“I’ll have Jimmy, Glen, and Shane go out there tomorrow. It shouldn’t be too—“ Rick’s words trail off when we hear T-Dog yelling and running toward us.

“--He’s gone!” T-Dog is visibly winded as he stops in front of Rick. “Randall.”

It takes a second for my brain to process what he was trying to tell us. When I do, T is still trying to catch his breath so he can elaborate.

“Son of a bitch.” I take off toward the barn leaving them behind. I don’t need to know the whole story of how T found out the kid was missing. Just the fact that he is gone is enough for me. Every second we waste is a head start for Randall to bring his group straight to us, no telling how much of one we’ve already given him.

When I get there, I notice the door is wide open but looks undamaged so I know Randall didn’t break it down to make his escape. I look around hoping that the kid is just hiding somewhere. The smell of mold and filth is heavy inside the small space where he was kept. Blankets that were given to Randall are still in the corner where I last saw him.

I pick up the only proof we have that Randall was even in this room to begin with, a pair of handcuffs. The kid must’ve struggled enough to slip out of them because the metal still has blood and pieces of his torn skin on them. Like a fox chewing off his own damn leg when caught in a trap, he must’ve known that he was running out of time and self-preservation kicked in.

“I’m telling you the lock was still locked when I came to the door.”

As T-Dog continues to recount how he found things I look up at the hayloft to make sure the boards I put up earlier are still in place. They are and they are placed in such a way that the light from the sun is barely able to shine through the slates. That and the door are the only ways out of this small space.

Our commotion must have been noticeable.

I can hear the others coming from inside the house questioning what is going on.

I don’t know where the kid is but it sure as hell ain’t in this barn so I go back outside. The ground has been trampled all over and continues to be trampled over but I still manage to find Randall’s tracks. The bad leg working as an advantage for me. Making him easy to spot.

The more I follow the tracks the more things don’t add up.

“All right. Hershel, T-Dog, get everybody back in the house. Daryl come with Shane and I.” Rick’s voice gets everyone moving in the direction they are assigned.

“Just let him go. That was the plan, wasn’t it? To just let him go?” Carol’s voice sounds desperate. I haven’t seen her shed a tear since she saw Sophia come out of the barn but right now it looks like she is on the verge of a meltdown.

“The plan was to cut him loose far away from here, not on our own front steps where he can bring his group straight to us.” Rick answers while he checks his gun.

A hand grabs my arm. Carol is holding on to me like she can stop me from leaving, “Don’t go out there. You know what can happen.”

I’m about to tell her that there is no use worrying about what might happen if we go out into the woods because whatever Randall and his group are capable of is a lot worse but Beth’s voice breaks through the group, “Where’s Mel?”

“What?” I ask and I search the faces of everyone standing around, like she might be standing amongst them and is just being overlooked.

“She never came in for dinner. She’s not in the stables either.”

Hershel puts his arm around his daughter and pulls her into his side, “They _will_ find her”. His words are confident and clearly meant for me since his eyes stay locked on mine the whole time he comforts his youngest child.

I receive the old man’s message loud and clear.

“What the hell are we waitin around for? Let’s go God damnit.” I start to follow the tracks without waiting to see if the others of our search party are behind me.

It takes effort to force myself to stay calm. Emotional people make mistakes and I’ll be damn if I have another Sophia on my hands. I remind myself to stay detached until I find them. Then I can take out my frustration on the piece of shit Randall because I _will_ find him. And if he harms a hair on the girls head I’ll make what I did to him in the barn look like love taps. He’ll be praying for death by the end of what I’m planning.

“He couldn’t have gotten far. He’s hobbled. Exhausted.” Rick stops beside me and I’m not sure if his words are meant to be comforting because all I heard was ‘He’s got nothing to lose’.

Forcing that line of thinking to stop, I examine the two sets of tracks. One is obviously Randall’s but the other pair are too big to belong to the girl. I’d chalk it up to Randall following tracks himself to get away but the weird thing is they appear to be walking in tandem.

 

**Mel’s POV**

Something is wrong with him. Like seriously wrong with him. He has reverted into the nice guy persona which I might have believed was real _if_ it wasn’t for the fact that I can feel the tightness on my skin from the blood drying above my eye.

Despite, or maybe it’s because of his unstableness, my plan is working so far. He is too busy talking to notice that we are moving at a snail’s pace.

Still, I hate that I am moving in this direction at all.

On a side note I’m pretty proud of the composure I have managed to keep in place during this whole ordeal.

“So, you were in Maggie’s class?” I ask another question that I don’t really care the answer to. I despise that I am forcing myself to be friendly right now but I can deal with it if it means I might stay alive in the long run.

“Oh yeah. She probably doesn’t remember me but she was great…”

I nod along to what he says as I take another quick glace behind us. My eyes rapidly dart about, looking for something. Maybe I hope to see Daryl coming to my rescue but there is no sign of a savior of any kind. Only more of the dense forest.

“How’s your sister?” he says almost shyly. Which is completely different from how he talked about her back at the pond.  

“What?” I blink, thinking that I clearly hadn’t heard him right because that question, coming from his mouth again, is still beyond fathomable.

“How is your sister?”

Nope I heard him right and the composure that I was so proud of a moment ago slips; but I quickly put it back in place. I remember what happened last time I lost my temper and despite the ache in my chest and the bile I feel in my throat after hearing him mention my sister, this might be the only opening I’ll get to slow him down even more. I stop walking and face him, making sure to fold my arms across my chest to hide my shaking hands.

I take a much-needed deep breath while I consider my next words very carefully, “Why do you care?”

Okay. Maybe not the most careful choice of words but at least I managed to take most of the venom out of my voice before asking.

His face looks shocked by my question which is absolutely baffling to me. What did he expect? That I would be willing to discuss my sister with him?

Fat chance.

He did nothing but watch as my sister and I were forced to endure those horrible things. Actually, what he did was worse than doing nothing. He was the one who made daddy watch everything that was happening. I remember him jerking daddy’s head up when he would try to close his eyes or look away from what was happening to us. He is one of the reasons Harmony is dead. But the worst part is that he doesn’t even know it.

“I-I’m not a bad guy.” Now his voice is suddenly less certain. “I’m really not. Honest.”

A disbelieving sound escapes from my throat at what he is saying.

I am so confused right now. He actually looks hurt that I don’t think he is a good guy. Despite everything else that he has done, which is grounds enough for me to hate him for a lifetime, he is currently in the process of kidnapping me at gunpoint!

All of my good judgement and any sense of self-preservation is thrown out the window when I throw up my hands and angrily ask, “Are you insane?”

That flicker of something dark in his eyes is all the answer I need. I see the hand holding the gun flex like my words made him remember he still holds it in his grip. My temple throbs, reminding me of the damage it can do without even being fired.

“I didn’t mean it like that. I’m sorry.” My voice is weak as I try to back pedal out of the situation I put myself in. My bravado all but shoved aside by my willingness to live. “I’m just scared.”

“I was supposed to kill you. That was the deal.” He takes a step toward me “I didn’t.”

My heart rate picks up a notch as my mind continues to have trouble putting together what he is saying. What deal is he talking about?

“Th-thank you?” I didn’t mean to make it a question but that is how it comes out. My anxiety is also rising to a new breaking point and I find myself repeatedly glancing past Randall’s head in search of any impending arrivals. 

Still nothing.

“He said that if I kill you it would get back at the asshole who did this to me-“  I take a step back as Randall’s voice gets louder and he waves the gun in front of his face like he is bringing my attention to his injuries for the first time. “- and then he would help me leave. Oh, man they are probably looking for us.” His hand rubs over his face as he looks over his own shoulder. It isn’t hard to notice that he is visibly rattled, everything he says is more to himself instead of to me.

“Who said that?” I ask but it brings his eyes back to me so I stop questioning him. Eventually he goes back to whatever inner monologue he is having and I know I am standing here like a deer caught in headlights but I refuse to blink. I’m afraid any movement will bring his attention back to me. That is the last thing I want, not with the way he is acting and how he was just talking about killing me.

“Come on. We gotta go.” His voice has a new urgency as he shoves me “Just walk, no more talking. I need to think.”

That edginess is still in his eyes so I continue to do what he says without questioning him.

At some point, I stop trying to sneak glances behind us.

I can’t wait for a rescue that might not show up. I’m going to die if I don’t do something.

**Daryl’s POV**

We are running out of daylight. At least we have one thing on our side, the asshole isn’t even trying to cover his tracks.

I want to kick myself in the nuts to stop whatever feelings start to rise when I see another set of footprints in the ground. I know without having to see them that the new set belong to a pair of Nike running shoes.  Ones that were once a bright blue before days of walking through dirt and mud dimmed them to an almost brown.

“Find anything there Sacagawea?” Shane breaths down my neck.

Maybe I can just kick him in the nuts instead.

I disregard him and his smartass mouth while my eyes continue to follow the trail. I can tell a scuffle played out when I see the dirt is all kicked up in a small area next to the pond. My final conformation is the small puddle of blood on the ground. I know it is nothing more than a few drops of blood but it still looks like it’s too much.

“Son of a bitch.” I touch the blood with a hope that it is still warm but the thick liquid is cold as I rub it between two fingers. It’s at least a half hour cold, maybe more.

Standing, I wipe the blood on my pants and face Rick.  I manage to keep all emotion out of my voice when I say, “He’s got the girl and a hell of a head start.”

 

**Mel’s POV**

“Hold up.” It finally seems the new pace Randall set for us has caught up to him. His breathing is loud and nauseating as I wait for him to catch up to where I stand. I find myself wincing as I watch him painfully maneuver himself down to the ground. It’s impossible not to notice the dark stain of blood which is now shiny and growing on the leg of his pants.

_‘Now’s your chance’_ my brain tells me _‘Make a run for it’_

I don’t. I’m an accounting student who slept with a nightlight on until I was fifteen not some CIA Jason Bourne character. I’m a pretty decent runner but I am confident that bullets move faster than I can run. I’m definitely certain that even if a bullet wound doesn’t kill you it will still hurt like the dickens.

Now I can’t stop thinking about how I am going to die and right now, the more I think about it, the more likely it seems that I will be shot today.

_‘Stop It! Stop thinking.’_ This time I follow my brains advice and I mindlessly start to pick at my nails.

“Sit down.” Randall taps the ground next to him. I shudder at just the thought of being near him but he also taps the gun against his upper leg, making the threat clear.

I wonder how much space between us I can get away with without pissing him off.

I don’t want to do it but I bend my knees so that I am sitting a few feet away from him. I can feel his eyes on me and I hate it. Despite the humid heat mother nature has gifted us with, his gaze sends ice-cold shivers everywhere his eyes trail.

I double my efforts to keep my attention elsewhere and I scan the surrounding woods for the next few minutes because the dead are still a threat. Although, if one showed up, a walker might work to my advantage right now. Maybe distract Randall enough so I can get away. All I need is a head start.

No luck in finding one though. In fact, there is nothing out here. No birds. No insects. It’s completely quiet –which in movies is never a good sign.

Without warning he grabs a curl that has escaped from my pony tail and slowly tucks it back behind my ear. My breathing stops. I can feel his skin leave a burning path as his finger slides down my cheek. On pure instinct, my body pulls away in an uncomfortable twist. It is not only an attempt to try and put more distance between myself and him but also so I can ready myself to stand up. Tight pain squeezes my wrist when his hand wraps around mine and he uses it stop my escape.

It’s surprising how strong his grip is as he keeps me anchored to the ground. Or maybe I am just weak.

His other hand has somehow gotten a firm hold on my chin and he uses it to turn my head. I try to stop the movement but the end result is that I am now staring into his eyes.

“You always had nice eyes. Very expressive.” He continues gazing into mine and I can feel the tears as they start to fill my vision so I squeeze my lids shut. When I try to turn away his grip is unyielding and a few of those tears I am trying to hold back manage to escape. “Are you scared? I feel like your eyes are telling me you are scared.”

A shudder being chased by terror runs down my spine. His voice, heavy with southern accent is without any of the charm. It’s flat and scary as hell. Almost mocking.

“Please let go of me.” I try to keep my own voice even but it breaks.

My words have the opposite effect on him and he squeezes my jaw until the sharp pain makes me reopen my eyes. This time I actually look at the person in front of me and gone is the guy who just minutes ago tried to convince me that he wasn’t a bad person. This is the same person I saw that night in the woods.

The one from my nightmares.

As soon as my own realization of who I am dealing with sets in, Randall smiles and the grip on my wrist becomes bruising. My left hand is the only thing keeping me upright right now. The involuntary trembling is putting me dangerously close to losing my balance and that is the last thing I want.

“W-we should keep going.” I’ll say anything just to get his hands off of me “I want to see Woodbury.”

It’s like he isn’t hearing anything I am saying to him instead he just leans in closer. I can smell his strong body odor and my stomach flips with nausea.

“Please. Don’t do anything you’ll regret,” I plead “Prove you are a good person. Let’s just go.”

“Nah. Your new friend wasn’t a good person when he tied me up and used my face as a human punchin bag.” His disgusting finger traces my bottom lip, stopping at the swollen cut I received earlier. My pulse is pounding faster and faster, making my lip throb where he stopped. “In my experience, the good people have all been killed but don’t worry about me, I’m sure I won’t regret anything.”

My lips tremble. The hot taste of bile surfaces in the back of my throat when his tongue licks his own chapped lips. Then he pulls me close to his face.

“No. Don’t do this.” I manage to shake my head, barely noticing the tears as they fly off my cheeks. I can only blame the terror running rampant throughout my entire body as the reason I haven’t planned an escape yet. The panic is clearly overpowering my ability to reason, and leaving me with only a petrified brain to do all my thinking.

My heartbeat, which is thumping in my ears, is the only thing I have to mark the passage of time. Each thump is agonizing and I count fifteen before Randall’s lips crush my own. Finally snapping me into action.

I push at his chest but he doesn’t move away. His hand grabs a handful of my hair to keep me in place and I have to bite the inside of my cheek to stop myself from screaming out from the sharp pain.

With no other options, I make a fist and start to hit him. My lack of experience makes my efforts ineffectual, only earning a small grunt when I hit him in the ribs. I switch to survival mode and just start clawing at his face or anything that my hands land on.

“Bitch!” He yells and his hands grip my forearms. I hear more than feel when his hand lands across my face. I attempt to let out a yell when my head hits the ground but there is a heaviness on me that knocks all the air out of my lungs.

He is straddling me.

I’m breathless and helpless. All I can do is look up at the person doing this to me.

He’s bleeding. Two thin lines of blood are forming under his eye. I flinch when he raises his hand. Thinking he is going to hit me again I brace myself, but he brings his hand to his own cheek to see what kind of damage I have done to him.

The moment he sees his own blood on his fingers his eyes jump back to me.

I know I have been in trouble since I first saw him back at the pond but the look in his eyes in this particular moment tell me that if I have any chance of living past today, I need to get away now.

“Please stop. Why are you doing this?” I cry but don’t receive an answer.

Randall starts to fumble with the buttons on my shirt. I know what he is planning to do and I can’t tolerate having him on top of me another second. My body starts twisting and turning in every direction but I can’t get out from under his weight. He grins at my frantic movements and I can feel a hardness that wasn’t there before, so I force myself to hold still.

“I know you liked it.” He mumbles like he is talking to himself but I know his words are meant for me to hear. “You and your sister both.”

My left arm is pinned under his knee but my right is still free.

He goes back to my buttons and I notice for the first time that he isn’t holding the gun.

This is my chance.

My last chance.

I take a deep breath and block out what he is doing. My free hand goes to his thigh and I grab it. I gather every bit of strength I have into pushing my thumb into the bandaged part of his leg. The spot that Hershel worked so hard on to make sure this monster got to live gives way with a sickening squish. I feel a warmth as his blood rushes to where my finger has reopened his wound.

His scream echoes through the trees but I continue to push.

I want him to hurt.

A fist hits my cheek. The pain is immediate and intense. I throw my free arm over my face instinctively.

Randall’s hand closes around my throat, and he shakes me hard, like he is trying to use my brain to clear the board in Boggle.

I’m trying to drag in breaths, I just need enough to beg him to stop, but nothing is filling my lungs. They only burn more with each attempt. He is so heavy and his weight trapping me is worse than knowing I can’t breathe. Even though his hands are only on my throat I start to cry when I feel more hands.

Imaginary hands.

I feel them in my hair, on my cheek, on my stomach, on my breasts, and moving down toward my thighs.

I know that this is not the time for a breakdown but my body freezes as my memories overcome me.

I don’t want to die today, not like this. Trapped beneath Randall as he straddles me in a pile of decaying earth. But that is exactly what is going to happen isn’t it? I want to survive with a desperation I have never felt before but there is little I can do.

I allow myself to fall into the detached, otherworldly state of mind that I found that night in the woods. I can use it as a shield just like I did then.

I start to think night fell pretty quick when blackness starts to fill my vision and tiny lights begin to dot all around me. Finally replacing the face above me.

I prefer the stars. So many stars. Despite the pain I feel in my chest I want to admire them. They call to me with promises of easing my burdens. I try to touch them but my arms feel like paperweights by my side.

So, I close my eyes and pray that Harmony and dad are waiting for me.

Suddenly my lungs rise with relief and I take a deep breath.

I take in another lungful of air.

Wait! I’m breathing!

I scramble to my feet as soon as I notice Randall’s weight is off of me. I need to be standing, it should make me feel less vulnerable. It doesn’t.

My legs feel wobbly and unsteady like at any second I’m going to end up on my butt again.

Frantic, I look around expecting to see Randall pointing a gun at me and intent on killing me.

It takes me a second to put together what I am looking at. A few feet from where I stand, I watch as Randall’s role is reversed and he is now the one forced to stay on the ground. Trapped by Daryl’s punishing fists.

Daryl is here.

I want to be happy but I’m in sensory overload. Between Randall’s screams, Rick and Shane trying to stop Daryl, and the heavy sound of flesh striking flesh. I feel like I am going to be sick.

The haze of adrenaline is quickly starting to wear off, leaving me fully aware of how close I just came to dying. Now the panic I was feeling no more than a minute ago, is the only thing left for me to fall back on.

Suddenly I can’t breathe again. My hands hysterically check my throat to make sure that there are no one else’s around it. There’s not. Can someone die from hyperventilating? Because I think I am about to. It feels like no air is being pulled into my lungs so I try to double my efforts but it only makes the feeling worse.

A strong hand pushes my shoulders down and, if such a thing is possible, I start to panic more. I turn and see Daryl attached to the hand that is touching me and I reel in my misplaced fright. He is talking but nothing is registering in my brain. All I see is his mouth moving and only a static noise is filling my ears. Either way he can see that I am clearly in trouble so I let him push my shoulders until I am bending at my waist. My hands keep me from dropping on my face by bracing my knees.

Oh God, I feel like I am falling. I focus on the ground and find reassurance that it isn’t getting closer.

Clinging to the mantra of inhale, exhale. I eventually calm down enough that once again breathing comes naturally to me. I seize the opportunity to right myself so I can see what has been playing out around me. Randall’s lifeless body is laying on the ground but I know he isn’t dead. His chest keeps rising and falling albeit a little shallow but he’s still alive. Not sure how I feel about that.

I don’t have time to contemplate the moral rightness of wishing someone was dead because Rick and Shane are having a heated discussion next to the limp body. Their arms are gesturing back and forth to me but before I can hear anything Daryl physically pulls my attention away from them by moving my chin toward him with his fingertip. He is looking at me expectantly and I know I missed whatever question he asked. 

“You hurt?” He asks again and if I didn’t know any better, I would say that concern laced his voice. I shake my head, unsure if my voice even works anymore but it is a mistake. His eyes don’t believe me because I watch as he quickly scans me for any visible injuries before landing on my face. He balls up another one of his endless supplies of rags and presses it against my temple. The piercing blue eyes are the opposite of Randall’s hate filled brown gaze that I thought were going to be the last thing I saw before I died.

I’m glad they weren’t.

“Uh…yeah.” I clear my throat and wince at the soreness and how rough my voice sounds “I mean no. I’m fine.”

But I’m not.

I feel fragile, vulnerable. I need someone to say that it is going to be okay. That everything is okay. Even if it is a lie.

 

**Daryl’s POV**

“You hurt?” what kind of question is that?

Anyone with eyes and half a brain can tell she is.

Leaves, sticks, blood, and dirt are all over her hair and skin. Angry handprints stand out against the paleness of her throat. Half of her face is a striking combination of swollen red and quickly darkening bruised purple. Her shirt is ripped opened exposing the undershirt beneath. It’s obvious from the streaks down her face that she has been crying.

The girl tries to talk but it sounds pain-filled.

I’m not a doctor. I don’t even know how to begin helping her. She needs Hershel.

“I-I’m sorry. I should have ki--“

“—Shut up” A sickening crack followed by a thud stops Randall from finishing whatever sentence he was going to say. It stops him from talking ever again.

The girl jumps when she realized that Shane just broke Randall’s neck. Maybe she shouldn’t have seen that.

“You saw what he was doing. What if that was Lori?” Shane starts to defend himself but Rick raises his hand to silence him.

“You’re right. There was no way in hell he was coming back to camp.” Rick looks at the girl who hasn’t stopped staring since Randall hit the ground. Then he looks at me and I know that he wants me to get her out of here.

I move to stand in front, so that she can no longer see the view currently laid out before her and ask, “Can ya walk?”

Her eyes stare through my chest in the same spot they were before like she is still seeing Randall on the ground but she nods.

I’m doubtful but she turns and starts a slow walk back toward the farm. It’s a little under 3 miles back and I know the sun will beat us home.

* * *

 

Not a word has been spoken and the girl hasn’t looked back once. She leads the way using only the light from the moon to watch where she puts her feet. I imagine she is in some sort of daze. Maybe shock?

I can see the lights coming from the farmhouse when the girl abruptly stops walking and looks up.

Her eyes search the night sky as if the stars contain the answers to all of her problems.

“You know,” her voice is soft but still deafening against the silence of the night “When we would come home from visiting my grandmother I noticed the moon never got further away. No matter how far or how fast daddy would drive it always stayed in my window. Almost in the exact same spot. I was maybe five, Harmony was still a baby, and I thought the moon was following me so I told my parents. My mom pulled me into her lap and explained to me that it was, but that it wasn’t a scary thing. It was because everyone we loved but couldn’t be with us anymore was inside watching over me. That was why is was so bright, because that was their love shining down on us lighting up the sky. She also told me that someday she would be up there watching over me. I believed her for the longest time. After she died, I actually believed she was up there following and watching over me at night. I would stay up late just to talk to her and show her my drawings from my bedroom window.” I watch as she angrily wipes a tear from her face “It wasn’t until I was watching some kids show and some bright colored puppet explained what the moon really was that I started to doubt it. I still brushed it off and decided my mom knew better. Then I started to notice that the moon would disappear some nights. That’s when I knew everything my mom said was a lie. Because she wouldn’t leave me like that. Not a second time.”

I don’t know what to say. I feel like she just told me something important.

I’m saved from having to say anything because the girl starts walking again. Rubbing her throat and wincing as she does.

“Hershel should look you over.” I say when I notice that she is walking toward the tent and not toward the farmhouse.

“Tomorrow.” Is her response as she picks up some sticks and throws them next to where we light the fire. “Have you eaten? I’m sure I made you miss dinner. I -I think I have a granola bar. You are welcome to it. Or I have--”

Maybe it is something about the way she is brushing off what just happened to her or maybe it’s because she is more worried about if I ate than herself but I stand in front of her before she can reach her book bag full of snacks that she keeps in the tent.

“Sit down. You like chicken noodle or tomato?” I’ve got a small stockpile of my own as a just in case.

“You don’t have to –“

“Chicken noodle then.” I walk over to Merle’s bike and reach into the saddle bag. Campbell's has yet to steer me wrong. The cheap 69 cent cans are what kept me fed throughout my childhood. I figure it might be easier for the girl to eat since her voice is shot to hell and the marks on her neck have only darkened.

When I turn around I’m surprised to see that she sitting down and starting a fire on her own. The lighter is being uncooperative and I can see the shine in her eyes as she struggled with it. There is no damn way I am going to let her break down tonight over something like a lighter.

“Here.” I hand mine out to her and she takes it without looking up.

 

**Mel’s POV**

“Get some sleep.” Daryl takes my bowl before I can protest and offer to clean up myself.

How can I possibly sleep? I think.

Of course, my body betrays me before I can argue with Daryl. A giant yawn catches me by surprise, almost cracking my jaw, and with that single action he knows that he won.

I nod and stand up. Wiping my hands on my jeans, I walk to where Daryl is swishing water around in my bowl, removing all signs of my dinner.

I clear my throat and wait for him to face me. When he is I take a deep breath, and say the words I have been rehearsing in my head since he found me in the woods, “Thank you for finding me.”

Then acting on impulse, one that I can only assume the rolling waves of emotions I have experienced today is to blame for, I throw my arms around Daryl’s neck and force a hug onto him. His body is stiff and I know that I am making him uncomfortable but I need this right now and I think he does to in a way. He doesn’t hug me back but I didn’t really expect him to.

Before I step away I inhale deep bringing the scent of smoke, sweat, and an undertone of leather into my lungs.

* * *

* * *

 

I don’t know if it is the memory of what happened yesterday or the physical pain that is responsible for my tear-stained face when I wake up.

It isn’t long before I figure it out.

My stomach feels too tight. I pull back the top of my sleeping bag and I know something is wrong. Before I can react, I hear Beth’s voice followed by the clanging of dishes as they fall to the ground.

She must have brought me breakfast because oatmeal is on the floor spilling from two bowls. But I know that she isn’t looking at the mess. She is seeing the same thing that has my hands shaking and unable to speak.

“DARYL!” Beth’s scream finally snaps me into action. Her head disappears from the tent at the same time I cover my legs back up. “She’s bleeding.”

I barely hear her frantic voice as another wave of pain has me doubled over. I can only compare it to the worse cramps I have ever had but tenfold.

The door to the tent is opened again but this time it’s Daryl standing over me. I’m too busy trying not to cry to see what he is doing but I know when he looks under the safety of my sleeping bag because in an instant I am being picked up and carried out of the tent.

I bury my face into his shoulder because I don’t want to think about what this means.

 

**Daryl’s POV**

After laying the girl on the bed. Hershel and Patricia rushed me out of the room. I’ve been wearing a track into the hardwood floor ever since. Beth and Carol stayed outside the room for a while before my restlessness started to drive them crazy.

All I can think about is how this is all on me. That I could have stopped this from happening.

If I had made her see Hershel last night he would have known something was wrong.

If I had killed Randall the other night maybe she wouldn’t be scared to death and bleeding in that room right now.

The door opens and I stop pacing. Hershel comes out and is wiping his hands on what use to be a white towel but it’s now stained brown with blood. He waits until the door is closed behind him before he motions with his head for me to follow him down the hallway into the kitchen.

There is a group waiting to know what is going on.

The old man leans against the counter and stares down at the ground. I’m about a second away from yelling at him to ‘speak god dammit’ when he finally opens his mouth.

“She’s had a miscarriage.” Hershel’s abrupt words make Lori gasp and she covers her own stomach like the word itself is contagious, “Mel will be fine. Her body knows what to do. We just need to watch for a fever or any other sign of infection. There is no way of telling what caused it. It is very possible that this might have been natural or it could have been brought on by all the stress she has been through lately. I think it’s best if we just let her rest for now.”

The words hit me like I’ve been shot again by my own bolt.

I shouldn’t care. It’s one less thing to worry about. Having one baby around is going to be tough enough, let alone two of ‘em. I should see this as a problem solved and maybe the girl does. It’s not like she chose this option in the first place.

The others are talking to each when I turn around and head for the stairs I just came down. My hand is on the baluster when I stop. This is exactly what I didn’t want to happen. I didn’t want to care again after Sophia for this damn reason. 

‘Come on boy, this isn’t who you are’ My brothers voice echoes through my mind.

The screen door slams hard behind me as I make my way to Merle’s bike.

 

**Mel’s POV**

I lean against the sink for a moment while everything Hershel said to me fully sinks in. I turn and look in the mirror but I’m not really surprised by the stranger staring back at me this time. I don’t feel like myself. I run my hands through my hair in a terrible attempt to fix the matted mess then I wash my face.

Feeling detached, alone, abused, weightless and heavy at the same time I just want to find an escape. I even think about hurling myself out of the window but where would I go after that? The fall itself probably wouldn’t kill me but I wouldn’t live long on my own out there.

I don’t even bother wiping the water off my face with the bright yellow hand towel by the sink. Chill air hits my skin when I open the door, taking note of how it wasn’t fully closed to begin with and I remember that Daryl kicked in this door the same day I thought my life was over. The day that test turned positive. Not that it matters now.

_‘Stop it’_ I tell myself

When I walk out into the hallway I somehow know everyone is downstairs and listening. At least that is how it feels, I can hear their hushed whispers and someone, probably Carol, is busying themselves in the kitchen. It’s like I am a badly kept secret everyone knows about. I imagine they are all waiting and preparing for me to have another breakdown.

Well they aren’t going to get that satisfaction from me today. I force myself to walk at a normal pace to the bedroom that I am back to occupying and slowly close the door behind me. I sit on the bed for a while staring at the nauseating wallpaper while I try to wrap my head around everything that has been going on. Everything that has happened to me.

Dale. Randall. My baby.

I just sit here.

I feel like I should scream. That I should be repulsed. That I should want revenge.

But I just sit here.

Shaking my head, I pull Daryl’s vest tighter around my body. It has become my security blanket and last thread to sanity. I lay my head on the pillow, not even bothering to get under the warmth of the quilt laid atop the bed.

Knowing that I just woke up not that long ago, I’m strangely very tired. Completely exhausted and defeated. I haven’t figured out what I am going to do tomorrow. All I know is that right now, I just want to close my eyes and forget everything that has happened. Everything I have lost.

I can decide what to do in the morning.

The sound of a loud engine driving away is the last thing I acknowledge as I fall asleep.


	9. Behind the Wall

**Chapter 9**

**Mel's POV**

Beth brings me my meals. And each time she tries to talk to me but she ends up having a one-sided conversation with herself. Then, when I hear a defeated sigh, I know she has given up for the time being.

She leaves taking my untouched plate of food with her.

I sleep. I ignore Beth. I ignore the rumble in my stomach at the smell of the food. I ignore everything going on outside of this room. I ignore anything that might make me feel even the slightest bit of anything.

This has become an uninvited routine and it has been going on for two days.

Honestly, if I let myself feel I don’t know which emotion is going to win out. There are just too many options and too many questions follow with each one.

_If I’m relieved that I lost the baby then does that make me a terrible person?_

_Am I selfish that I wanted something that was just mine?_

_Why can’t I protect the ones I care about?_

I guess it’s yet another one of those chapters in the ‘How to Act During the Post-Apocalypse’ that needs completed. At the rate I’m going I’ll have a whole novel soon. Maye I can become the equivalent of the post-apocalyptic Dr. Phil (granted if the original is already dead).

Right now, I can see the light through the yellow curtains so I know that the sun is up but I have no idea what time it is. The sound of the door being opened tells me that it must be time for one of the three meals. I expect to hear Beth’s forced cheery voice soon but the sound of a gruff but feminine humming is what starts to reach through the fog my mind has been in.

My arms wrap tighter around myself. It’s both an attempt to block out Carol and to stop the visible tremors that still rack my body. I haven’t stopped shaking since I was brought into this room. Hershel says that it is normal, but I feel anything but normal. I should be able to stop it but my own body isn’t even listening to me anymore.

All semblance of control is spiraling away from me quicker than I can hold on to it.

There is no warning before natural light is no longer being filtered through the curtain and floods the room. I blink my eyes trying my best to adjust to the sudden intrusion.

“Don’t you think you have been cooped up long enough?” The sound of the window being lifted open precedes a burst of cool air and the sound of life that I have been successful in avoiding up until now.

I ignore her question and wrap the blanket tighter around me. The only thing keeping me from telling her to go away is the fact that manners have been instilled in me since I was old enough to walk.

Instead, I bite my tongue and continue my stare off with the wall hoping she goes away quicker than Beth usually does.

The bed shifts as Carol sits down at the foot of it. So much for that quick exit I was hoping for.

“I brought you something.” Her hand lays down a white flower in front of my eyes on the pillow “-It’s a Cherokee Rose. Has Daryl told you the story behind this particular flower?”

Hearing Daryl’s name almost makes me sit up, eager to hear anything about him. How beyond pathetic am I? Despite the little I know about Daryl, there is a connection. There is no logical explanation but it’s there nonetheless.

It was when Daryl was carrying me up here that I knew what the blood meant. I think he knew as well and I found something akin to comfort when my head was buried in his shoulder. I haven’t seen him since then. Not that I blame him, he keeps having to save me. If I was him, I would probably try to stay away from a walking disaster too.

I guess Carol takes my continued silence as a ‘no’ instead of the intended ‘leave me alone’ and starts to recite the history of the flower.

“A lot of Cherokee mothers lost their children on the trail of tears. The American soldiers didn’t give them time to bury their young, much less grieve. With each fallen child the elders saw how hopeless their people were starting to feel. So, they offered up a prayer and asked for a sign of hope. One that would give the mothers strength. The next day that flower started to grow in the exact same spots where the tears for their lost babies had fallen.” As her own emotions start to resurface, Carols voice becomes strangled and her hands smooth out the wrinkles in the quilt “Anyway, Daryl tells it better.”

It’s a depressing story but it doesn’t take away from the simple beauty of the flower. It might even add to it. While Carol was talking my gaze moved from the wall to the flower in front of me. Just five white petals that look similar to silk. I briefly wonder if they share the same texture as well but I stop my hand from reaching out to compare. Instead I continue to study the flower. The petals are made more vibrant because they surround that lively yellow center. It only has the two colors but they balance each other out in a way that only nature can.

Humble, Modest, and probably overlooked. It’s the most beautiful flower I’ve seen.

“I brought you some soup.” The clinking of a spoon against porcelain echoes in the room and I stop my stomach from getting too excited at the sound.  “You need to eat something. You can’t keep this up.”

Carol’s fingertips brush against my temple and I curl into a smaller ball. A noise close to a whimper escapes me. Which makes me hate myself even more. The touch wasn’t threatening. It was a motherly move, something I haven’t experienced in a long time.

She was trying to give me comfort but my reaction is to recoil in fear? Pitiful.

Closing my eyes on an exhale, I’m quickly reminded of the loss that is no doubt still fresh for her.

“Sorry.” I mumble to the wall because I am afraid of the hurt I might see if I look at her face.

“Do you plan on just wasting away up here?” Her voice holds an angry tone.

Despite how rude it might be, I don’t answer. Manners be damned. I didn’t ask her to come up here, hell I don’t even know this woman.

Carol sighs, then I hear her place the bowl of soup on the side table next to the bed. I think she is about to leave but her footsteps go further into the room. Looking past my feet, I can see her standing in front of the window, her right hand holding a fistful of that yellow fabric.

“You were lucky enough to never have the pleasure of meeting my husband Ed. I know I shouldn’t speak ill of the dead but he never was a man of much worth. It wasn’t long after Sophia was born that he was laid off from the plant and money started to get tight. Not that I am making excuses for him but that’s when he started to really change. He became a different type of mean altogether.” Carol is still telling the story to the window. Which I understand, because it’s easier when you don’t have to see the pity on others faces.

“One night he came home smelling like cheap liquor and he hit me because I left the porch light on for him. That was the first time he put his hands on me but it wasn’t the last. Anyway, it wasn’t long after that night I found out I was pregnant again.” She turns around and resumes her spot at the bottom of the bed, this time I move my legs over to give her some room. “Something that should make me happy and there I was just terrified. I tried to ignore the pregnancy because ignoring it was easier than thinking about the life my child would lead after it was born. The fear and pain it would know only because it had the misfortune of being born into the wrong family. Don’t get me wrong, I loved my Sophia. She was my reason to keep living after a certain point but I should have done more for her when she was alive.”

Looking into Carol’s eyes there is no doubt that she loved her daughter or that she has already lived a life full of regrets.

“Ed had a way of making me feel like I was worthless. I tried to run away a couple of times but I always came back. I don’t know what kind of hold he had over me but after a couple of days away, for some reason, I thought I was better off with him than without him. I think I was just afraid of being on my own. Being alone. So, I would always find my way back even though I knew that he would beat me for running away in the first place.”

Her hand hovers over my leg like she needs the physical contact but she hesitates before placing it back in her own lap.

“It got to the point that I wanted to give up and just stay on the floor after each one of Ed’s punishing bouts of anger, especially after the night I laid in my own blood for hours when he caused a miscarriage. After a while I remember being grateful that it happened. That I wouldn’t fail another child as a mother. I’ve never told anyone this. I don’t think Ed even knew I was pregnant a second time.”

The urge to hug the older woman is overwhelming. Everything about her right now screams emotionally raw and I have no clue what to do in this situation. I wonder if this is what people see when they look at me now.

“Why?” it’s not until I speak that I realize tears have started to roll down my own cheeks at this woman’s pain.

“I wish none of this would have happened to you Mel but I think I’m telling you now so that you know you aren’t alone. It’s hard not knowing how to feel. Like the world is trying to punish you for thinking your own private thoughts.”

“No.” I shake my head, elaborating on the question I just asked. “Why did you get up?”

The sleeve of Carol’s shirt acts as a tissue for her eyes before she answers me, “I knew that I had to keep going. Sophia needed me. Just like you have people who need you.”

That’s where she is wrong and I voice my opinion without thinking.

“I don’t have anyone anymore Carol. I failed the people who needed me. Now the only people who have ever cared about me are dead.”

“Oh honey, that’s not true.” She reaches for me. This time I know that the touch is coming so it doesn’t affect me as much. Her shaking hand grabs ahold of mine. “I care. Beth and Hershel care. Daryl cares. Did you know that he has been sleeping outside your door ever since you’ve been in here?”

Taken by surprise, my muscles are stiff as I make them work to push me up so I can sit against the headboard. It makes me feel less vulnerable while talking.

“I’ve been nothing but a nuisance to him since he found me. Why would he do that?” I’m genuinely stunned that Daryl would silently sleep outside my door. I thought I was talking to myself but then Carol answers my question.

“Daryl is a very loyal person. He has a tough exterior that he likes to put on but underneath that is someone who cares deeply. You are lucky enough to be on the other end of that. Now--“ she nods to the table, her face still wearing that sad smile “-I made a promise to Beth that I’d get you to eat. So how about some of that soup?”

It doesn’t take an emotionally stable person to see that Carol just opened up to me about something very personal or that she would rather not dwell on what was said. So, I look at the offering and see that steam is still rising from the bowl and my stomach admits a very loud defeat.

 

**Daryl’s POV**

My feet are rooted just outside of the door where I stopped at the top of the stairs.

Feeling like an intruder, I slip back into the hallway. Leaving Carol to finish the story that I have no right hearing. I hadn’t set out to eavesdrop. The hammer and box of nails are proof that I had every intention of fixing the broken door across the hall. With more people inside the house, having an extra bathroom with a working door might come in handy.

At first, I wasn’t able to make out their conversation. It was just a light, lilting hum in the air, a nice offset to the silence that has been the girls room. Then I took another step and the words became clear.

Carol’s words are still swirling around in my brain on a seemingly infinite loop.

Back at the quarry we all knew her husband was a piece of shit but I’d never seen him lay a hand on Carol or Sophia. Hell, if word got back to Merle that he was a wife beater Ed would’ve ended up dead a lot sooner than he did.

Everyone’s got some kind of sob story but it is their right to tell it and Carol meant for only the girl to hear hers. What I should have done was made myself known. But like a coward, I slipped out with none the wiser. All because I’m still not ready to face the girl yet.

If I see her, that aching pit called guilt will pull me in further than I already am. The knowledge of my own responsibility for the girls’ current state is crushing and the main reason I had to leave the farm. Originally, I had zero intention of coming back. This place and everyone here remind me of a time when I cared. I learned back then at a pretty early age that it was dangerous but now it is just plain suicidal to open yourself up and care about anyone else. Knowing that they’ll be dead soon enough.

That is what I tried to remind myself as I drove Merle’s bike away after finding out about the girls’ baby. Fully intent on leaving it all in my rearview. That I’m only with these people because it is easier than being on my own. That it is easier for me to put up with them if I have a place to sleep where I don’t have to worry about someone stabbing me for a can of food or waking up to a walker gnawing on my foot. That it’s all about survival.

Then I reminisced about the times these assholes have punched and shot me recently. So why did I come back?

It’s an unanswered question I continue to ask myself as I walk back to the tent.

Last night was the last time we would be known as two separate groups. Hershel has offered to let us move into his house for the winter. Can’t say that I am excited to be cooped up but I guess it’s better than freezing my nuts off.

What little I have fits quickly into the bag and I throw it outside the tent. Only a sleeping bag and a backpack are left inside. Both belong to the girl.

The shiny light green fabric of the bag still has the dark spot of dried blood.  My eyes avoid the spot and I leave it behind as I grab her backpack, flinging it over my shoulder. It feels too light and I know that she only has a bottle of water, a borrowed shirt, and a book with a dried oak leaf holding her place inside.

A blunt reminder of how little she has.

I make a mental note to take her into town. I saw a consignment store that looked deserted so she can at least have her own clothes and not be dependent on the other girls’ generosity.

Jesus. What the hell am I thinking? Merle would have a field day with the idea of me taking a girl ‘shopping’.

 

**Mel’s POV**

My thoughts are still twisting and turning inside my head after Carol leaves. Everything she said still resonating with me. She is right, I need to get up and keep going. Even if I don’t have anyone who cares if I am alive or dead. I still need to keep going. For myself.

Now that my stomach is full I can no longer concentrate on the gnawing hunger and I start to notice that the longer I sit here doing nothing the quicker my thoughts seem to gravitate back toward the depressing side of the spectrum.

That can’t happen.

There’s no way I can sort out all of the issues I have going on right now and still remain a somewhat stable human being. So, I figure I can lock them away behind a wall constructed by my mind. I’ve read about athletes doing something similar on game days. Blocking everything but the game off from their mind in order to win.

For me, it’s a last-ditch attempt at self-preservation.

A psychologist would probably tell me that it isn’t healthy to do what I plan to do but if I had a psychologist around I wouldn’t be navigating this shit-storm blind. Plus, it is surprisingly easy to forget things if you really want to. Even things as horrible as what I need to forget.

Another brick in place.                                                                             

Walls won’t last forever, I know that, but I just need time. Time to feel like the person I was before, that calm trusting person that I haven’t seen in what feels like years. I want to smile, joke, and laugh without feeling guilt that I’m still alive.

Another brick.

The questions that won’t help me survive. What if I am always this scared? What if I can never trust again? What kind of miserable life awaits?

Another brick.

Of course, in theory I can think about the way I have found friends and kindness here but the darkness of my past will keep creeping in until I have no other future but waking up every night screaming about something that isn’t really there.

I just finish putting the last brick in place when someone knocks on the door.

“Come in.”  My voice already sounds stronger and I start to think my plan of escaping behind a mentally constructed wall might have worked.

Slowly the door opens and a head of blonde hair comes inside.

“You’re up.” The smile on the young girls’ face is so heartening that it makes me believe for a second that Carol was right about people still caring about me.

“I am. Sorry I haven’t been much company lately” the smile on my face is forced but hopefully convincing.

An old saying pops into my head and I hold on to it. Making it my temporary motto.

‘Fake it to you make it’.

* * *

 

* * *

 

My feet stay frozen at the doorway. Even with my imaginary wall allowing me to pretend like everything is okay, it doesn’t let me forget about everything bad that has happened outside of this room. I know it is false security but the connection is still there.

Beth has started to notice my hesitation and I hate the way she is looking at me. Like she knows what is going on inside of my head.

As my little sister would say, ‘It’s time to pull up my big girl panties’. Concentrating on the weight of Daryl’s leather vest on my back, I switch one security blanket for another and cross the threshold. Once past that invisible shield each step is easier and it isn’t long before I am walking side by side with a talkative Beth.

“Daddy agreed to let Rick and the others move into the house for the winter. Which makes sense really, we have plenty of room for everyone. I mean yeah, it’ll be a little crowded but hey, maybe we can share a room, it’ll be like old times. Just like when you and Harmony shared a room and I’d spend the night.”

Unaware that by saying my sisters name to me she has already started a tiny fission to form within the bricks of my wall, Beth keeps moving her mouth. I pretend to listen but stopped after hearing the reminder of one of the things I was trying to avoid. She didn’t seem to notice so I focused on mundane things like the steps under my feet until I find myself sitting on the soda in the parlor room.

Seemingly happy that I am out of the upstairs bedroom, Beth continues to talk. Not caring that I am only giving half-hearted nods of acknowledgement when there is a pause in sound.

Scanning the room, I am shocked by the number of boxes and bags scattered everywhere. Finding a path to the couch was a feat in itself.

It is going to be difficult finding personal space and time now that Rick’s people will be within the confines of the farmhouse. It already starts to feel too claustrophobic just thinking about it and I find myself planning out a possible way to escape.

I really don’t think Daryl plans on asking me to tagalong with him out in the woods anymore. The idea of losing that valued time pains me more than I thought it would. Everything about that time spent with Daryl was therapeutic in a way.

He doesn’t prod, judge, or question me. He just lets me be.

The only time he talks is when he deems something worthy enough to teach me because more than likely it is something that will one day save my life.

Heavy footsteps approaching the front door turn my attention fully back toward Beth while my peripheral catches Hershel walking into his house. A quick smile covers up his surprise at seeing me sitting on the couch with his daughter.

 

**Daryl’s POV**

“Hershel is being kind enough to share his house with us. We are still guests in his home so let’s keep that in mind while we are staying here.” Rick’s voice is confident as he addresses the group.

For some reason it feels like I am back in grade school and Rick is lecturing us like we are about to visit a museum. Reminding us to be on our best behavior. I start to roll my eyes but then I see Shane look particularly intense as Rick’s gaze land on him at the end of his speech.

It is no secret that there is no love lost between Hershel and the former ass-hole cop. So, there is no doubt that Rick will be spending his time interceding between the two grown men. Then to make matters worse, Shane has been especially edgy since the Randall incident.

The meeting sounds like it is about to wrap up and I hold my breath as Shane does his signature scalp rub, it becomes obvious to all of us that he wants to say something.

Rick notices it as well, “Got something on your mind Shane?”

A humorless chuckle escapes Shane and just like that, any hope that today was going to end on a good foot goes out the damn window.

“Yeah I think I got something to say.” Shane looks around the group circled around “Are we just going to pretend that what happened on our turf didn’t happen? I mean you brought the threat here and then you failed to protect our people. The way I see it -it’s your fault what happened here and to Mel.”

“Don’t!” I say on a growl before I even think the words. Then Rick moves to stand in front of me effectively stopping me from closing the distance between me and Shane. “Don’t act like you give a shit about that girl.”

Everyone else has stepped away from the immediate threat that is unfolding between us. Shane doesn’t even try to hide the cruel smile on his face before he responds.

“You’re right Daryl. I don’t give a shit about her.” He points to the house where she is. I try to move but Rick’s goddamn body is still blocking me “But the fact remains that Rick is the leader and he put all of us at risk. Including her. I think we should take a vote and decide if he should be in charge of these type of decisions anymore.”

“And I’m sure you’ll be more than happy to step up. Go back to sitting on top of the R.V. telling everyone else what to do?”

“Last time I checked, Daryl, we were all alive when I was calling the shots. It was when he showed up that people started to end up dead. Your brother included. Or did you forget that Rick left Merle chained up on that roof to die?”

 I hadn’t forgotten. I also hadn’t forgotten how much of an asshole my brother could be.

That bait Shane was dangling was going to stay on the hook. If it was Shane on that roof instead of Rick, Merle wouldn’t have had a chance in hell. At least Rick tried to go back and didn’t flat out shoot him in the head.

“Shane’s right.” Ricks calm voice interrupts “You people can decide whatever the hell you want to. In the meantime, Daryl and I are going to talk to Mel. Try to find out what happened leading up to Randall escaping in the first place.”

“I’ll come to.”

“No. You won’t.” Ricks tone leave no room for bargaining “Why don’t you stay here Shane and stage another coup. Daryl and I can handle this.”

* * *

* * *

 

We find the girl with Beth, Carl, and Hershel sitting around the kitchen table playing some kind of board game. Her smile is not quite believable but at least she is out of that room.

At least she isn’t crying.

When Rick clears his throat, I find my eyes looking at every small detail in the room just so I can avoid meeting the girls’ eyes.

In spite of my best efforts the room doesn’t hold my attention.

I hate that her face changes when Rick asks to speak to her in private. That flash of panic and fear in her eyes. I hate even more that she looks to me after he asks. Not sure if she is asking for permission or searching for reassurance I speak up.

“Hershel’ll be there” I nod. Knowing that the old man will insist on joining us in the room if she is in it. Which I don’t fault him at all. Hell, the girl just decided to come out of her self-imposed solitary confinement after being assaulted on a farm full of people. I’d say that any trust issues she might have would be warranted.

If I had my way, we wouldn’t be asking her any questions at all ‘bout what happened. But it isn’t up to me and no one so much as asked for my damn opinion.

Rick is a cop. Finding answers is his thing and there are too many of those answers missing surrounding the whole Randall thing.

Too many things that are just not adding up.

More or less I trust Rick. I have since the day we went against those Mexicans in Atlanta just to get Glen back. All because Rick felt he owed Glen for saving his life in the beginning. Not to sound too sentimental but that was when I knew Rick was worth a damn as a leader.

 

**Mel’s POV**

I already don’t like how this is going.

Beth and Carl left me and the game of monopoly sitting at the kitchen table. While Rick takes the seat across from me I briefly notice Daryl leaning against the doorway with something close to a bored expression on his face.

“How are you feeling Mel?”

This is the first time I have talked to Rick one on one and I’m taken aback by the way he says my name. With such ease and concern, it’s like we have been friends for years. Unease immediately takes up residence in my stomach.

“I’m feeling a lot better. Thank you.” My words are scripted and said only as a pleasantry but also not entirely a lie. Thanks to my wall I am numb and not feeling much of anything right now which is an improvement.

“If it’s alright with you I just have a few questions about what happened the other night.”

I don’t want to talk about that. On their own, my eyes search for Daryl. He is my only constant and he is my only hope of getting out of this situation. But when I find him he is still leaning against the door frame like only his weight is keeping it from collapsing on all of us.

He has a sudden interest in the hardwood floor or maybe it’s his shoes. All I know is that he is looking everywhere but at me. That hurts more than my busted lip as I start to chew on it.

Rick is still waiting for me to respond to his question.

I’m aware that my head is shaking back and forth and that my eyes have no doubt switched from pleading to resemble a trapped animal but I really don’t want to do this. I just managed to lock it all away. Everything I want to avoid is still sitting behind that rapidly failing barrier I built and I want it to stay there.

It hasn’t even been a full day.

As if it wasn’t difficult enough to ignore the banging against the wall every time Beth said my sisters name or when I saw Lori cradling her own stomach when she looked at me with a mixture of fear and pity. Now they want me to relive what I’ve locked out.

It was stupid.

I was stupid.

Stupid for thinking I could ignore everything. That dam started crumbling as soon as I put that last brick in place.

It isn’t until Hershel grabs my hand that I realize I am on a verge of a panic attack. He is talking to Rick and it looks like they are arguing about something but I can’t hear anything. The only sound filling my ears is a whooshing noise like I can hear every cell of blood as it runs through my veins.

Then above that thundering in my head I hear a chair as its legs drag against the wooden floor. Daryl has moved from his post and is now sitting in front of me. Rick and Hershel continue to talk but I focus on the two small pools of blue across from me.

I’ve lost my mind because the next 30 seconds is filled with an entire conversation without either of us saying one word out loud.

_“Ya good?”_

_“No. Not really.”_

_“No one’s going to make ya but he wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t needed.”_

_“I can’t.”_

_“You can.”_

That is how the conversation went in my head anyway. It was all said in his clipped voice but if Daryl was experiencing the same thing I was I couldn’t tell you. And I’ll never ask him because it is more than a possibility that he was just looking at me and I made the entire exchange up inside my head.

Before I think better of it I allow my voice to mix with both Hershel and Rick’s.

“What do you want to know?”

 

**Daryl’s POV**

I fucking hate doing this to her but I know where Rick is getting at with it. I have the same suspicion he does but Rick was a cop and he thinks evidence is still needed to convict a guilty man. I don’t.

I’m close to pulling the plug on this whole thing when I notice a change in her.

A second ago she looked like she was about to chew her own leg off if it meant getting away from Rick and his questions. I don’t know what steeled her resolve but I watched it as it fell into place.

Rick and the old man hadn’t even noticed as she quickly started to shut down in front of them. Like usual, I didn’t know what she needed or how to bring her back from whatever was happening inside her own head. Unsure of my next step and completely acting on instinct I moved to sit across from her.

Unblinking, her green eyes stayed fixed on mine. Our eyes didn’t stay locked together for long but in the few seconds that they were, it was as if she was both telling me all of her secrets and begging me to help her.

I did nothing but watch as she took a fortifying breath and said, “What do you want to know?”.

Her voice finally brought the attention of the other men away from their ‘who’s right and who’s wrong pissing match’ and back toward her.

Her back is straight, and her face calm. The only evidence of her inner battle moments ago is in her slightly trembling hands. Even that is being hidden by how she keeps moving them from her lap to back to the table like she doesn’t know where they belong.

Ultimately, they settle in her lap as Rick asks, “Were you there when Randall got out? Did you see it?”

I already know the answer before she even answers. Her footprints were nowhere near the shed where Randall was being kept until his escape.

“No. I was looking for you--” the girl nods her head in my direction but I’m impressed that her eyes return to Rick “--at the pond. I just turned around and he was there.”

Her voice starts to crack and I can tell her hands are working overtime as they try to calm her.

“He did say that his group had a camp…Wood something Woodside? No that’s not right. I can’t remember what he called it.” She turns to Hershel “That town where they have the tractor pull every year?”

“Woodbury” the old man nods and puts a comforting hand on her shoulder. “It’s close to a 45-minute drive from here. Northeast on some back roads.”

“That’s a big help Mel.” Rick voice has the practiced calmness of a seasoned cop “One last question, did he say how he got out? Or do you remember anything that might help us figure it out?”

“N—” I watch as her face scrunches up like some memory is coming back to her. Then that shadow of panic starts to flicker behind her eyes again. “H-he said that the person who let him out made a deal with him. That he could get revenge on Daryl if he--by killing me. He was supposed to kill me.” the last of her words are no more than a whisper.

My knuckles are white from the sheer willpower it is taking me not to reach for my crossbow and point the business end at that dick head outside. Instead I try to keep my voice even as I speak to the girl for the first time in days.

“Why were ya lookin for me?” My attempt at keeping my voice calms fails but she doesn’t flinch at my harsh tone.

She just seems surprised by my question and by being pulled from reliving the memory of how close she came to dying.

“He said you were looking for me. That you were headed toward the pond.”

I wasn’t looking for her that day. I was out walking the fence lines.

“Who said that Mel?” Rick beats me to my next question.

“Sh-Shane.” The girl must have put two and two together because her head darts toward the window probably in search of the traitor who was all too eager to sacrifice her so he could prove himself right and Rick wrong.

I am going to kill him.


	10. Scope of Things

**Chapter 10**

**Daryl's POV**

 “Daryl. Daryl!” Rick’s voice is really irritating as I slam the screen door on my way out of the house.

His face is even more infuriating as he runs in front of me to block my path. “Just – just wait a second.”

“Out of my way,” I growl but the man doesn’t move. He doesn’t even flinch. I move to step around him before the urge to punch him takes over. Rick grabs my arm, pulling me closer to him. “Get off me.”

Rick tightens his grip before letting me go, “I know what you are going to do, hell I want to do it just as much right now, but I am asking you not to.”

“Why not?” I spit out.

“Let me take care of it. It is my mistake to fix. Just give me some time.”

The words ‘Fuck You’ are on the tip of my tongue but I bite it back instead of letting it loose.

“The end of the day.” I point my finger in Rick’s face “You have till the end of the fucking day then I take care of him myself and if he so much as looks at the girl then I’ll kill him dead right then. Got it?”

Rick seems to understand what I am saying and nods, “That’s all I am asking for. Just one day.”

It’s a good thing Shane isn’t anywhere near me right now because despite what I told Rick I would still put a bolt in his head if I saw him.

“That son of a bitch isn’t going to be walking around I can tell you that much. He is a coward and if he gets wind that we know he’ll do more than try to escape unnoticed.”

“No, you’re right. He’s not,” Rick runs his hand through his hair, “You good?”

My eyes have moved back to the front door that I just left and I can see Hershel leading the girl back up the stairs.

_Am I good?_ Far from it in fact. I want to gut the bastard but I nod anyway.

* * *

* * *

 

The bastard is working on a lookout stand when Rick finds him.

I’ve been ‘asked’ to stay behind so that Shane’s suspicions aren’t raised. Which I took to mean as, sit in front of Hershel’s window with a rifle pointed at the sons a bitch’s head just in case he caught wind that Rick knew.

In all honesty I was looking for any sign that would warrant me pulling the trigger.

Unfortunately, the bastard hasn’t given me a reason to just yet.

I don’t know what Rick is playing at. I could end it right now and I wouldn’t lose a wink of sleep at tonight or any other night.

Unlike the Randall situation –Shane has to die.

There’s no debate.

No second chances.

He is too dangerous and way too fucking eager to kill anyone of us. I’m also sure it has to do with that side rendezvous Rick’s wife and him had back at the quarry.

Too much drama. That’s why I stayed the hell away from people. I can deal with the ‘he said, she said’ bullshit but like everything else in this world now it’s taken an extreme turn.

Now we apparently plan elaborate ways to kill an innocent girl just to get rid of your once best friend so you have free reign to sleep with his wife.

 

**Rick’s POV**

“Got a second?” I call up as I shield my eyes from the setting sun but it does nothing to show me Shane’s face.

“Yeah one minute?” the sound of wood being thrown down is followed by Shane’s footsteps hitting the metal bars of the windmill.

It doesn’t take long for him to ask the question, “What did the girl say? She remember anything?”

I don’t know why, but I want to look at his face. I want to see if my friend is still in there, the man that I would put my life on the line for knowing that he would have done the same but when I look at the person standing before me I don’t see that man.

I’m looking at a completely different man.

My eyes dart from his cocky grin to the unlatched gun holster on his hip.

“No.” I answer “No. She didn’t. Poor girl is too shaken up, barely talked to me at all.”

Shane stops wiping his hands on the discolored rag and looks up at me, testing to see if I am telling the truth.

“That’s a shame. What’s our next move?”

“You know I can’t help thinkin we missed something. How about you walk with me down to the shed and see if we can figure this out.”

“Nah. I really need to get this finish—”

“Wasn’t a question Shane.”

I know he spots my hand on my sidearm when he throws the rag down and smiles.

 

**Daryl’s POV**

Where the hell are they going? Without thinking I get up from my spot on the floor and take the stairs two at a time. With two windows, one facing the front and the other facing the side of the house, the last room at the end of the hall has the best vantage point but it is also being occupied by the last person I want to see right now.

I curse myself as I give a quick knock on the closed door.

Surprisingly she answers with a quick and strong, “Come in”.

I avoid looking at the bed, where I know she is, and make my way to the first window.

“Daryl?”

“Hm” I grunt as both a response to the girl and a response to seeing Rick push Shane into the same shed Randall was being kept in.

“What’s going on? Did the Randall’s people find us?”

The rising panic in the girl’s voice is what pulls my eyes away from the scope of the rifle and finally look at her.

“No. I’m just makin sure everything’s made right.” The bags under her eyes have somehow darkened since I saw her just twenty minutes before and I’m sure her hands never stopped shaking since they continue to do so now. “Try to get some sleep.”

I turn back to the rifle waiting for something to happen.

“Is he still out there? Are you going to stay here?”

“For now. Want me to leave?” I ask without looking at the girl. If she wants me to I will. The roof would be the second-best option.

“No!—I mean please don’t.”

“Alright.”

Exhaustion must have taken over because it isn’t ten minutes before the girl’s breathing evens out and I know that she is sleeping.

My eyes stay trained on the shed. Waiting to see which one of them comes out. If I see anyone other than Rick’s face stepping out of there I’m pulling the trigger.

 

**Rick’s POV**

As soon as the hollow sound of the wooden door slams Shane turns around to look at me.

My gun is drawn and the sinister look on his face reminds me of a murderer we caught back in ’99. The guy slaughtered his whole family.

Wife, two kids, and his parents.

When the prosecutor asked him why he did it his one-word response was, ‘because’.

I thought I was looking into the face of pure evil that day and I had hoped to never be faced with it again but luck isn’t on my side as of late. Since I am once again looking at it standing no more than two feet in front of me.

“This is where you plan on doing it?”

“Good a place as any. It was good enough for Randall.” I answer “Why’d you do it Shane?”

“It had to be done?”

“I don’t understand”

“You wouldn’t Rick. It had to be done and I figured this way was the cleanest. The Randall problem was solved and-“

“You would have been proven right. You were willing to sacrifice an innocent girl just to take me down a peg?”

“It’s more than that Rick. I would kill a hundred of those girls if it means keeping Laurie and Carl safe.”

“They are _NOT_ your problem.”

“They are! Since that day I left you in the hospital man, they became mine.”

Realization dawns on me. The way he just said that my wife and child were his.

“You and my wife? MY – _MY_ wife?” I raise the gun so it is even with Shane’s chest.

“Don’t seem so shocked Rick. You and Laurie were having problems before all of this, is it really a surprise?”

“The baby?”

“Your guess is as good as mine really.”

The confession has my thumb pulling back the hammer on the gun.

Shane laughs and I can only guess it’s because he knows he is going to die or he sees my anger as a weakness.

“You gonna kill an unarmed man? That ain’t you Rick.”

Shane lunge toward me and the moment his body collides with mine the gun goes off. A deafening sound in the small shack.

Blood from Shane’s mouth drips on my face and I push his weight off of me. From the light of the sying sun alone I can see the blood spreading out from his stomach and I know that I just killed my best friend.

“You made me do this Shane. This is your fault.” I shout into the face of a dying man. “This was you. You. Not me. NOT ME!”

The gurgling of blood as he tries to speak has me instinctively add pressure to his stomach even though I know there is no way to save him.

Not now.

 

**Daryl’s POV**

“What was that?” Comes from everywhere in the house. It seems that everyone heard the gunshot but only I saw the quick flash of light coming from between the boards of the shed. No one has made an appearance yet so I haven’t moved.

I need to know that Shane is dead.

That I can tell the girl he isn’t going to be a problem anymore.

She is sitting up in the bed now but hasn’t asked me any questions despite the growing panic going on outside the door. It seems that both Shane and Rick’s disappearance are no longer unnoticed.

“Come on God damnit.” My eye is still attached to the scope but with the sun almost completely below the skyline. I have maybe three minutes left of any kind of visual.

Just when I am ready to stand up and head down to the shed myself I see movement. The door of the building opens and I spot the familiar jacket of Rick. A few more seconds and the door shuts behind him.

“Good riddance.” I mumble, forgetting that I have an audience sitting behind me. Rick is slumped over like he is trying to get his breath. The guy just shot his life long friend so I don’t blame him for taking a second to compose himself but I feel absolutely zero remorse for that son of a bitch getting what he deserved.    

As I am watching, I notice movement from the shed door again. It’s so small that I think it might just be the wind moving it but I continue to watch as a body stumble’s out. I can just make out Shane’s face but it seems off but then again light is almost nonexistent at this point.

Lifting my eye from the scope I see Rick is already headed back toward the house and unaware that his good buddy is following him.

_“Fuck it.”_ I think as I reposition and fire the rifle once. Shane’s head going backwards on impact and his body following after.

Rick ducks and looks behind him. That’s when he notices Shane’s body.

The bedroom door bursts open and the girl huddles into the corner of the bed. Her blanket pulled to her chin.

“What is going on? Mel are you alright?” Hershel is the first one through the door and somehow manages to keep the others back.

“Shane’s dead.” I say as I walk into the hallway, having to push people out of the way. I’m sure to say it loud enough that the girl hears what I am saying. I also know that my proclamation will force the others to follow me downstairs and leave her alone.

Just like I thought would happen, shocked questions and ‘what do you mean dead?’ followed me down the stairway until everyone was spilled out onto the front porch.

“It means that Shane is dead. Bullet to the head.”

\- “Was he bit?”

\- “What happened?”

\- “How do you know?”

\- “How?”

These people were giving me a headache. Rick was the one who should be answering these questions. I could care less about spinning Shane’s story but I don’t know if Rick wants to play it a different way so I’ll just keep my mouth shut until he manages to fill everyone in.

He should be back by now. Luckily the moon is giving off a good amount of light now and I can see movement in the field.

“Shut up.” I snap at the group. Rick wasn’t that far out and whatever is moving is more than one thing “Kill the lights. Get inside.” Realization dawns on me when I see a herd of walkers come over the hill “Now!”

For once people listened to me and started to move. At least panic wasn’t setting in yet.

“What should we do? Head down to the basement and wait for it to pass like on the highway?” Glen asks and I have to give him props on his steady voice.

“Not unless there is some tunnel I don’t know about. A herd that size will tear this house apart. We gotta get out of here.”

“What about Rick?”

“He’s a smart man.” The sounds of the dead start to fill the air. “He will figure it out but we can’t do nothin if we’re dead.”

 

**Mel’s POV**

Shane is dead.

Daryl killed him.

I feel nothing. Not even slightly relieved.

It’s not until Beth rushes into my room that I even move from my spot.

“We gotta go Mel. Daddy says there is a herd headed this way.”

Beth is in a panic and picking up things and shoving them into a backpack. Things like hairbrushes and books. Things that aren’t needed. It reminds me of my sister when daddy told us we needed to pack up and leave.

On instinct I jump up and grab the bag Beth is holding and I take her shaking hands into my own forcing her to look at me.

“Go downstairs and get as much food as you can,” I empty the backpack on the floor between us not bothering to look at the contents “Then you get in the truck and you wait there. If the dead get too close you start up that car and you drive. Don’t wait for anyone do you understand me? You drive to the highway and head toward the old gas station off 33. You can wait there if we are separated. Let everyone know where to go.” I wait for Beth to nod her understanding before I push her toward the door. “Remember. Just grab food then get in the truck.”

When Beth disappears through the door I grab the only thing I own and the one borrowed thing I have in my possession. I take a glimpse out of the window and I can see the mass of dead bodies stumbling their way toward the house. I know that they have spotted signs of life here and have no intention of stopping their pursuit of it.

My hands start to shake as I attach Daddy’s knife to my hip and pull Daryl’s vest on, taking a deep breath as it settles on my back. I literally run into Daryl just outside my door. My face hitting his chest but he grabs my arm to steady me before I can stumble backward.

“Come on.” His grip tightens slightly as he pulls me down the steps and toward the front door. A quiet chaos is happening all around us and Daryl doesn’t seem the least bit bothered at what is happening. I make a mental note that this is what I need to strive for, his mind is set on whatever task he has given himself.

His current mission seems to be getting the both of us out of the house.

When we are standing outside I can see the herd is still coming this way just like I knew they would. Daryl’s attention never falters but I know he sees that the bodies are starting to spread out which is only going to make them more dangerous if we are still on the farm when they get here.

His hand leaves my arm and I didn’t realize how much I was relying on him to direct me. Daryl wordlessly hands me his bag and I throw it on my back as I watch him throw his leg over his motorcycle and lift the kickstand up with the heel of his boot.

I jump when he starts it up, the rumble filling the air with a menacing sound. Predatory in a way that rivals the sound of the walkers.

“Get on” Daryl jerks his head and I realize he wants me to get on the bike behind him.  I have the stupid notion to argue with him. I have never ridden on a motorcycle and despite the trashy romance novels I have read I never really intended to as long as I lived. Then I remember the flesh hungry dead coming our way and suddenly I’m not afraid of wreaking. Besides, Daryl looks like he knows what he is doing behind the handles.

I straddle the seat, still trying to give Daryl enough room, it feels different then riding a horse and the rumble of the engine sends vibrations throughout my body. Daryl pulls my knees closer to the front of the bike and I follow his lead. He seems satisfied when my chest is flush with his back.

“Rick’s out there,” he nods toward the shed while checking the gun in his hand “Can you handle this?” He is having to shout over the sound of his bike but I still didn’t understand what he was asking. Not until he hands me the gun.

The chaos has spilled outside. Everyone is running around now. Lori picks Carl up and puts him in the backseat of a car. Hershel is telling Patricia to grab any medical supplies she can find. It’s not until I see Beth get into the truck with T-Dog that I take a deep breath.

“Y-Yeah.” I don’t know how he heard my answer but as soon as the words left my mouth the bike lurches forward and I’m forced to wrap my left arm around Daryl’s waist.

Even though we are headed straight toward the group of walkers, the nerves and excitement still haven’t made an appearance. I see a cluster of walkers clawing at the shed we are headed for before I see the waving arms of Rick standing on the roof. The building isn’t going to last long, more and more walkers are joining and I can hear the groan of the wood as it starts to give way.

The dead on the outermost ring tun their attention to us as they spot new prey. My grip tightens as Daryl stops the bike and starts to fire his gun into the crowd. I follow suit, surprised that I am able to hit some of my targets but then again it would be more surprising to miss since I have so many targets clustered together.

We both fire shot after shot which gets the attention of all the walkers.

Rick is rapidly forgotten as they make their way toward Daryl’s motorcycle. I keep my eye on the man who jumps off the shed. As soon as Rick’s feet hit the ground and he recovers he starts running. I tap Daryl’s shoulder to let him know that their leader is clear of the immediate danger.

The only warning I receive before Daryl moves the bike forward again is a quick squeeze on the wrist I have wrapped around his front. He doesn’t head back to the farm or the main road. Daryl drives further into the fields, the terrain starting to finally jostle my nerves to the surface.

He follows the line of barbed wire fencing, reviving his engine several times to make sure all attention is on us. Giving the people back at the farm more time to evacuate.

It seems to be working.

Quicker than I thought possible the walkers are pushing down the fence. Their decaying hands reaching out for us but Daryl Keeps us out of reach. Moving the bike forward until he stops under the oak tree.

I hear gunshots coming from behind us, I turn to see that a large group of the walkers continued to make their way to the farm and are starting to surround the property.

They are all over the place and unless Rick has an unlimited supply of ammo, we are grossly outnumbered and will run out before we even make a dent. It’s almost impossible to believe how quickly they descended on the farm but I know first hand how time seems to be altered in situations like these.

A high-pitched scream pierces its way through the rumble and growling surrounding me. My eyes are still watching the farm but I can’t make out faces. I just see people running amongst the dead and a small herd of walkers falling to the ground as they tear into fresh meat. It isn’t long before the screaming stops.

The truck I saw Beth get into is nothing but two red tail lights kicking up dust as it heads to the main road. Two more cars follow after but I still hear the sound of gunfire.

All of my attention has been on watching the scene unfold before me that I hadn’t remembered where I was. A hand finds its way into my hair and I scream while I claw at the monster trying to pull me from Daryl’s bike.

_POP!_

The arm goes limp but the fingers are still tangled in my hair and the dead weight is making me fall off.

Walkers start to close in on us.

“Come on. Ain’t got all day.” Daryl yells at me before lending is help to disentangle the unwanted hand from my hair.

The hand falls to the ground and I scarcely have time to readjust myself and hold on before the bike rolls forward, peeling away from the farmhouse.


End file.
